Misplaced Innocence

by Veronica Morneaux

  A man stepped out of the car, looking worse for the wear. Jared squinted against the dying sunlight for a better view. His hair was too long, almost shaggy, and he raked a hand through it. From the passenger side, a slender woman appeared, straightening her pencil skirt and not seeming to mind the layer of dust that was already settling on her leather pumps.

  Jared watched them approach, not at all feeling the need to walk toward them or make an acknowledging gesture, or hell, even smile in their direction. They could drag their asses over here and say whatever unpleasant news they had to share and then get the hell off his property.

  The man yanked a pair of scarred sunglasses off his face as he came closer. His eyes were that clear crystalline blue that became almost colorless. He tucked the glasses in the breast pocket of his shirt and held out a hand toward Jared.

  “Jared Williams?” The man’s voice was thicker, heavier than Jared had expected with a husky quality that suggested he spent too many hours with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. Jared watched the offered hand and let it linger for a moment in the empty space between them before reaching out to take it. The man took the offered hand as an acknowledgment to his question. “Alex Lansing. This is Marguerite Shaw. We’re with the FBI.”

  Alex paused, almost allowing it all to set in for Jared before continuing. Apparently, he didn’t expect Jared to be offering much information. “We’re here to follow up on the recent missing case involving Candace Ackerman.

  Jared stared blankly at the two agents. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can help you.”

  Alex Lansing frowned, but Agent Shaw remained impassive, the sharp angles and golden skin untouched by concern or heat. “We have you listed as one of the main informants about the supposed abduction,” he continued, “I imagine you will be able to help us more than you realize. We’ve been following this for a long time. I’m sure you have some information or insight that can help get us back on track.”

  Jared tried not to think about how absurd this conversation was getting. All he wanted was to know where Charisma had gone and what had happened to her and all of a sudden these FBI agents were showing up on his property while he was, of all things, checking fence posts, and wanting to talk about some woman he had never in his life even heard of and certainly could not provide any sort of information or insight for. “I think you’ve been given the wrong information.”

  Marguerite pursed her lips, still unable to make them into a thin unattractive line, and spoke for the first time. “You might know her as Charisma. Charisma Clark.That’s the name we have on the report from Carlton.”

  Jared needed to sit down. For the first time in a long time, he actually thought he needed to sit and absorb all of the crap life had decided to throw at him in the last 42 hours. Hell, the last year even. This had to top the cake, but for sure nothing had been pretty since his gorgeous wife had batted her eyelashes in his direction and informed him that ‘things weren’t working,’ closely followed by ‘and I’ve found someone else.’ And under her sweet breath he was sure he could hear her say, ‘And I’m leaving your damn ass and taking the practice with me.’

  But he didn’t say any of that. Instead he settled on his blandest version of, “I see,” and waited for Marguerite to continue. With the briefest of nods, she did so.

  “We’d like to learn a little more about what…Charisma had to say about her life previous to arriving in Carlton, and if she gave any indication to a change in events recently. Anything you can tell us would be great. We haven’t added anything new to this file in more than a year. We’ve been trying to keep tabs, but you know…” she shrugged delicately and Jared was struck by how attractive she was, even in the navy suit that was all business, “it can be hard when someone doesn’t want to be found.”

  Jared knew exactly how much Charisma didn’t want to be found. What he hadn’t realized, exactly, was how much she needed to not be found. But sometimes those were things you found out too late. He had definitely missed the boat on that one. The two were waiting expectantly for a response for him. Well, he amended, Marguerite was waiting expectantly, her dark eyes flashing and intelligent. Alex was just waiting, an etched expression of boredom on his face and lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Of course I’ll do what I can do.” He flipped his notebook closed and headed back toward his house. “Why don’t you come inside. I can get you something to drink.”

  They followed dutifully behind him, no one thinking to refuse a beverage or a snack, and he wondered when they had last been able to sit down and relax for a minute.

  Maybe he wasn’t the only one running himself ragged for Charisma after all.

  ~*~

  They were settled around the kitchen table. Jared hadn’t had this many people in his house at one time in years. Even having Charisma in the house had taken some time to get used to. With three people around the table, the kitchen seemed smaller, everything seemed smaller. He was glad for the interruption because, apparently, given any more time for introspection, Jared was going to start questioning his purpose in life and whether or not anything he had ever done was actually an accomplishment.

  He sighed and took a long drink of too-hot coffee. He hadn’t bothered with sweetener or milk. Whatever was going to help distract him from all this crap that was going on was worth it, even if it was the bitter dregs from an old pot of coffee.

  Alex and Marguerite each had their own mug of coffee. No one seemed to be much interested in the contents, but all three kept drinking. Alex swept another hand over his face, and in the artificial light Marguerite looked tired beneath her makeup.

  “Candace, huh?” The word was heavy and unfamiliar on his tongue, like he had never even heard the name before. Somehow, he couldn’t connect it to the woman who had been living in his house and eating at his table and smiling in that way that made him want to smile back. It didn’t seem like it belonged to her at all.

  Marguerite nodded slowly, as though she were testing out the waters, as if she knew this was a hard thing for him to grasp. “Candace Ackerman. She grew up in New Jersey and spent her whole life there. Until she came here of course.”

  “Of course,” Jared repeated. “Until she came here.”

  Alex picked up where Marguerite had left off, barely hiding his agitation over the play by play they were apparently going to have to do before they got to any of the information that could potentially be helpful in finding their missing victim. “Well, there is a six month gap between her last known address in New Jersey and the time she first made an appearance here.” He pursed his lips into a thin line, as though considering the possibility. “There’s not really any way to tell where she was in between.” He shrugged again. “She spent a lot of time preparing; she transferred money and didn’t use credit cards, she found new names to use…she just disappeared.”

  “Not that she can be blamed,” Marguerite interrupted. “She had a lot riding on disappearing. She covered her tracks well and she knew just how to do it.”

  “I see.” Jared grimaced. If he heard those words come out of his mouth one more time, he might actually do them all a favor and hit himself.

  If it was bothering them as much as it was him, they gave no indication. “She was working at the local strip club, The Ladybug.”

  “Okay.” Jared took another swig of coffee in the hopes that it would help him ingest the story as well.

  “She acted as the manager there. You know, smiled at the guests, seated them, had their favorite dancer assigned to them. She made everything run smoothly.” Marguerite whipped out a handful of photos from somewhere while Alex continued to talk. She passed them across the table and toward Jared.

  It was Charisma. Her dark hair fanned out around her shoulders in loose, sexy curls. He couldn’t remember ever really seeing that hair out of a ponytail, but he wasn’t surprised by the sheen of the dark curtain or the way it framed her face and drew attention to the shape of her mouth.
In one photo she had her arm draped over the shoulders of a pretty blonde in sweatpants and a beaded bra, in another she was pressed up against a man in a suit, looking up at his face while he smiled for the camera. It was a strange parallel to the woman he knew, the artist intent on the paper in front of her, nothing revealing about her cotton shorts and too-big t-shirt. In the pictures she was dressed in black and her eyelashes were sooty and long, and her mouth was pouty and red with lipstick. He almost couldn’t imagine they were the same person.

  Alex gestured toward the pictures in Jared’s hand. “It wasn’t much of a secret that the club was just a front for mob activity and a heavy drug distribution ring.” He let out a weary sigh. “We’ve been trying for years to pin down something that will stick, but so far we haven’t had any success. All of our testifiers have…disappeared.”

  Jared didn’t really care for the sound of that, but he let Alex continue.

  “One of our local politicians was pretty well known in the club. He and Candace…became involved. They dated for almost a year. We’re a little fuzzy on what actually happened, but around the time she ran, the mob and the politician had a falling out, one of her friends had just been murdered,” he gestured again to the photo and Jared assumed the friend in question was the pretty blonde, “and the Witness Protection Agency wanted Candace in the program in the hopes that her testimony could put away the heads of the crime centers in southern New Jersey.”

  There was a pause, an invitation for Jared to jump in with either some amazing insight of the now familiar, but still utterly lame, ‘I see.’ Jared chose to remain silent and it wasn’t long before Alex continued.

  “We’ve been waiting for her to come back on our radar, though,” he stopped to take a breath and glance sideways at Marguerite, “we weren’t sure she’d be much use to us when that happened.”

  Jared was pretty certain Alex Lansing wasn’t known for his bedside manner.

  Marguerite took over the story, shooting Alex a look that suggested he needed professional help. “We know finding Candace is important to you, and it’s also very important to us. It’s pretty safe to say the mob is just one step ahead of us and was able to find her address before we were. Whatever she might have told you or that you might have seen may help us find her sooner.”

  “I don’t know if I know anything that can help. It wasn’t really something we spent a lot of time talking about. I mean, really,” he pushed the chair back from the table and stood up under the pretense of needing another horrible cup of coffee, “we aren’t even that close. I barely even know her. Charisma was just, you know, I was just doing a favor for a friend, really. Really.”

  Alex grunted in a way that made Jared think his explanation lacked credibility. It didn’t even sound that credible to Jared, and he was the one spewing it.

  He took his time moving across the kitchen. He doubted any of the things he did know would be of any use. They wouldn’t care about how she laughed while she was playing with Scruffy or what her face looked like when she was concentrating or how pretty her brown eyes were when they caught the sunlight. They had already told him more than he had known. There was nothing else he could add. “I’m sorry. I just don’t have the information you need. What you’ve told me here today is more than I know. She’d just shut down and…” He couldn’t find the words he needed, so he settled for a shrug and let the room return to silence.

  After a moment he heard the scratch of the chair’s legs against the floor and the gentle sound of Marguerite clearing her throat. “Well,” she began “thank you for answering our questions. If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, please give us a call.”

  Something in the way Alex held his shoulders made Jared think Charisma’s case was just as exhausting to him. Jared promised them both he would be in touch if anything came to mind, but already he was sure there would be nothing to give them. Marguerite pressed a pair of business cards into his hand and he barely gave them a glance before slipping them into his jean pocket.

  From the kitchen window he watched them climb into the car and pull away. Even the roar of the engine as it came to life was dull, unconvincing in its bravado. No one seemed to believe there was any reason to be looking up.

  He watched them drive away until they were little more than a speck and the dust had long since settled. Then he scooped up his own car keys from the counter and called for Scruffy.

  New Jersey was as good a place as any to wait this out.

  ~*~

  It was a straight shot from Arizona.

  Not really, but Jared figured as long as he was headed East he was in pretty good shape. The dog was curled up in the front seat, the cool air from the air conditioner sending her hair flying.

  They had been on the road for hours. Jared periodically thought about pulling over and coming to terms with his lunacy, but he always talked himself out of it at the last moment, generally when he happened to be talking it through with Scruffy. There wasn’t much of an end in sight. He figured he would drive until he couldn’t drive any longer and pull over for whatever sleep he could grab.

  He briefly entertained the possibility that Charisma was driving along this same route. That if he stayed awake long enough, drove far enough, he might actually pass her on the road. It kept him awake longer than he should have been able to.

  Jared didn’t mind the drive, really. He told himself it would be good for him. That maybe this was what he had needed. A little one-on-one time with himself, in a car, going to the other side of the country and nothing but time. He had tried for so long not to think about New York. About the things he had left behind. About the people. About what had brought him back to Carlton. It was all overdue, really, but sometimes these things were just better not to think about at all.

  At least, he hoped it was better not to think about them, because that had been the basis for his approach to life. Though he found he was suddenly doubting that was the way it should be done. Didn’t seem like there was much he could really do to change the way he’d already lived the majority of his life. Nothing like hindsight and regret to cheer up a thirty hour drive.

  He reached over a hand and rested it on the top of Scruffy’s head. Jared didn’t say anything, and it was quiet in the car. He had a feeling it was a sound he might need to get used to.

  ~*~

  “That was a complete waste of our time.” Alex was still grumbling as he and Marguerite sat in the uncomfortable chairs at their boarding gate. “A waste of time and money and mostly time. Because now we have lost all this time!”

  “Alex. Okay. I get it. We didn’t exactly get what we came here for, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was a waste of our time.”

  Alex yanked his hand angrily through the air. “Do you see anything good coming out of our trip, because, in case you’ve failed to notice, the trip is coming to a sad and exceedingly unproductive end.”

  Marguerite rolled her dark eyes at his attempt at drama. “Maybe Williams will come up with something. Any minute we might hear from him.”

  Alex dropped his head back against his chair, stretching his body in the hopes of working out some pretty persistent kinks. “Sure. Any minute now, he’s going to pick up the phone and call and then you and I will be stuck on an airplane for a few hours. All in all we’ll only have lost a few precious days of time and the likelihood of Ackerman still being alive won’t have plummeted drastically. Not to mention what little we had in terms of a case. Everything is just absolutely peachy fucking keen.”

  Marguerite sighed, reached into her carry-on bag and pulled out her Ipod. On days like this, it was the best money she had ever spent. She slipped them into her ears and hit the power button. Beside her, Alex continued to talk.

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to continue to listen.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Charisma closed her eyes tightly beneath the blindfold, focusing every ounce of her energy on sensing her direction. Fortunately, she had been blessed wi
th a decent sense of direction – one of the few positive things she had inherited from her mother. It was a talent she frequently felt was obsolete thanks to Mapquest; she never would have guessed just how much was resting on that ability in her sudden, unusual, predicament. She could be nearly across the country by now, probably back in New Jersey where it all began. Even thinking about it brought a churn to Charisma’s stomach. She didn’t want to see any of those familiar faces, partly fearing them, and partly believing she would lose control and be capable of doing anything to them. They had stolen first her life from her, and now, her body too.

  A rough, harsh arm wrapped around her long legs and smaller, clammier hands reached under her arms – probably Freddie’s, she thought with disgust. She clenched her teeth as one pinky finger, began inching forward, stroking the side of her breast. She gnashed through the gag in protest and wiggled a little, but the grip beneath her arms tightened harshly and she winced in pain.

  “Quiet,” he snarled under his breath, and resumed his previous violation with his little finger.

  Quiet acquiescence was difficult for Charisma, but she forced herself to comply, hoping that her cooperation would gain her some sort of clemency in the end.

  “Dom, how far is this place?” Frankie asked.

  “Shut up.”

  Frankie growled in response.

  “I do. Don’t want our groceries to learn where they are.”

  “Our groceries are…bagged,” said Frankie, with a tone that clearly suggested he was pleased at his ability to carry on the metaphor.

  What a stupid euphemism, Charisma thought.

  “You’re an idiot,” Dom said bluntly from ahead.

  “Hey, shut the fuck up,” His grip was tightening on her shoulders again in frustration and the wince etched deeper in the lines of her face.