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Private Lives

Page 35

by Karen Young


  They were letters from the child Elizabeth to her father, Matthew Walker.

  “Mr. Leggett, I wish you’d stop and think about what you’re doing.” Jennifer stood with Jesse on the deck of the boat watching Austin readying it to cast off. She’d had a dozen chances to get away herself, but she’d been forced to go along with everything he thought up because he threatened to hurt Jesse. Jennifer wasn’t sure she believed he would do it, but he had a crazy look in his eyes. And with every passing minute, he got crazier. He mumbled a lot to himself and he seemed ready to jump out of his skin at the least little thing. “If you take us out in this big boat, how is that going to help you? Sooner or later you’re going to have to put in at a dock somewhere to gas up and the whole world is going to be waiting for you.”

  “Shut up and make yourself useful.” Austin tossed the line to her and Jennifer caught it smartly. Going out with her dad on his boat had always been her favorite thing, so she was accustomed to playing deckhand. She made it fast on a cleat and watched him jump awkwardly onto the deck. He was no yachtsman, she thought in disgust. And she was willing to bet this Bertram didn’t belong to him.

  “Whose boat is this?” she asked, looking around to locate life jackets.

  “My father’s.”

  “My dad’s got a boat, too.” She removed the cushion on a hatch cover, one logical location for life jackets. No way she would let Jesse go out on this boat without one. Worse yet, it was getting dark. Did this clown know anything about navigating at night? “His isn’t in the class with this one, though. I bet you had some good times when you were a kid growing up with a yacht like this in the family.”

  “I hate boats,” Austin muttered, beginning to fiddle with switches and check gauges at the helm. He definitely wasn’t as confident as her dad when he was at the controls of his boat. It would be really risky going out to sea with a man who hated boats. At night. This baby probably had power to spare, she thought, and they could be miles from shore within no time flat. What could she do to delay casting off? “Where are the life jackets? All of us need one. I bet you don’t have anything small enough for Jesse, do you?”

  “Do you ever shut the hell up, kid?” Grumbling, he left the pit and began searching for life jackets. Which turned out to be a bust as far as safeguarding Jesse. Nothing small enough, just as Jennifer guessed.

  “Now what?” she asked, keeping Jesse close. “We can’t even think of taking Jesse out to sea until we get her a life jacket.”

  “We’ll all go without life jackets if I say so,” he snarled. Slamming a door inside the cabin, he came out looking harassed. Jennifer watched him shove his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself. He stood looking around as if the life jackets would just magically appear out of thin air. What a dork! But they could be hurt by a dork the same as a maniac and she had to do something.

  “I’ve got an idea,” she said brightly. “It’s not exactly honest, but we’re desperate, isn’t that right? I could just pop over to one of the other boats around here and sort of borrow some life jackets.” She waved a hand at the boats moored in the surrounding slips. “I mean, the ox is in the ditch, as my dad would say, so we gotta do what we gotta do. It wouldn’t be too criminal since our lives would be at stake if we go out in the Gulf without ’em.”

  “Will you shut up, for Christ sake!” He turned from the console to look at her, cursing furiously. “Did anybody ever tell you kids are a major hassle in a man’s life? It’s no wonder Paxton dumped you on his ex. Drive a man insane flapping your gums.”

  That hurt a little, but she didn’t show it. Her daddy loved her, she knew it. She felt it. When Mom married bald-headed Gerald, she was going to stay with Ryan and he wanted her. It was gonna happen. Really.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Mr. Leggett.” She wondered if pushing his buttons was smart, but she just couldn’t let him leave this dock. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be spotted and get in trouble when we have to dock?”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about docking,” he said viciously. “What you need to worry about is whether or not I throw you overboard.”

  Jesse made a sound, a soft little whimper. Jennifer instantly threw her arm around her small shoulders and hugged her close. “He was just kidding, love bug. He’s your daddy. He’s already promised he wouldn’t hurt us.” She looked up, glaring at him over Jesse’s head. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Leggett?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Austin was preoccupied now with the mechanics of starting up the boat. “Just keep the chatter to a minimum and we’ll all be okay.”

  Jennifer bent to whisper words of comfort in Jesse’s ear. But as Austin fired up the Bertram’s powerful engines, she was filled with fresh fear. Austin, the creep, had confiscated her cell phone right away, so she had no way of calling anybody unless she could somehow get hold of his before they got too far out. Once you were a certain distance out in the Gulf, you couldn’t use a regular cell phone. And he was probably too stupid to even know that.

  She closed both arms around Jesse, her mind racing. What to do? What to do? There was still a slim chance that somebody was aware of the vehicle Austin had rented…if Rick had recognized them as they’d left the alley. And, if he did, was he able to get the license number? Once they’d arrived at Galveston and were pulled up at dockside, she’d noticed that Austin had obscured the numbers with mud or something. So, if somebody was looking for an SUV of that make and model, would they stop and clean off the tag?

  “You never said where we’re going, Mr. Leggett,” Jennifer said, raising her voice over the sound of the engines. Meanwhile, she noticed anxiously, it was getting dark, big time.

  Austin was busy studying a map.

  “Mr. Leggett? Mr. Leggett!”

  He turned around furiously. “This is the last time I’m warning you, you little shit! Put a lid on it!”

  “But I think Jesse’s getting seasick.” She wasn’t, but anything to delay them leaving the dock.

  If she thought his use of cuss words was bad a few minutes ago, now she’d never heard some of the things he’d said. Not even on MTV. “Maybe we better wait a few minutes,” she suggested. “And we really need to get life jackets. What if we run into bad weather?”

  “You—” He pointed a finger at Jennifer. “One more word and you’re overboard, you hear me?”

  We’ll probably all be overboard whether I talk or not, you creep. You’re about as capable of operating this boat as your five-year-old daughter.

  Jesse squirmed around and looked up at Jennifer, big eyes seeking reassurance.

  “We’ll be okay, love bug.” She put her lips close to the little girl’s ear. “Jen’s gonna think of a way to get us out of this mess, don’t worry.”

  Jesse seemed to relax somewhat, but there was still an anxious look in her eyes. For herself, Jennifer had never been so scared. That they were stuck on this boat with a lunatic was bad enough, but it was night. His inexperience was an even bigger threat. If it was true that panic was a spur to creative thinking as she’d once heard some psychologist say on The Learning Channel, then she’d come up with something brilliant. She just hoped her brilliant idea would come soon.

  Twenty-Seven

  After leaving Louie, Elizabeth and Ryan were both silent all the way back to her house. Instead of relieving tension and making her feel better, Louie’s confession had drained her of what small reservoir of energy she had left. She had imagined herself being able to listen to his explanation of the incredible circumstances of his life and then simply deciding whether to believe it or not. But, in any event, it would mean nothing to her except that Louie was now not the man she’d come to know.

  But it had been nothing like that.

  At the door, she fumbled in her pocket for the key to her house, then after a couple of attempts to fit it into the lock, Ryan finally took it from her gently. “I don’t know the code for the security system,” he said, pausing before opening the French doors. “Can you man
age that?”

  “Yes.” She stepped inside and punched in the code. He closed and locked the doors. They’d had no calls from Steele or from Jennifer’s cell phone. There was nothing to do now but wait. And think.

  The mental turmoil of the past few weeks was taking a toll. It was devastating to hear Louie tell of his criminal past, of his fear for the safety of his children, of his decision to testify and disappear from their lives. Coming so close on the heels of Gina’s death and Jesse’s disappearance, it was just too much. How could she have thought otherwise?

  She stood in the middle of the room, willing her mind to shut down. If she could manage that, she might be able to make it through another long night. Not to sleep; sleep was utterly out of the question. Bursting into tears, however, just might happen. It was probably the aftershock of all she’d been through, she thought, making her way quickly to the leather sofa. Shedding her sweater, she kicked off her shoes and settled into the corner. With her legs tucked beneath her, she hugged a big cushion and concentrated on heading off an embarrassing display of guilt and self-pity.

  She had almost forgotten Ryan when he appeared carrying two snifters of brandy. Taking one, she sipped it, closing her eyes and savoring the fiery taste flowing over her tongue. Hopefully, it would soon dull her senses. “Where did this come from? I don’t have any brandy in the house.”

  “I thought you might need something stronger than that expensive wine you stock.” He went to the wall and switched off the overhead light, leaving only a small lamp burning on a table across the room. The effect was one of quiet intimacy, enhancing the feeling that the two of them were suddenly alone with their fears and regrets. “I made a list and one of the cops went to Spec’s to pick it up for me.”

  “Thank you.” Tears were threatening again.

  Taking a seat within touching distance, he leaned forward to set his glass on the low table in front of the sofa, then leaned back, resting his arm behind her. “Want to talk about it?”

  “What is there to say? Louie is my father. He was a corrupt judge. He took bribes in return for handing down favorable rulings to well-heeled clients. He abandoned me and my sisters and left us at the mercy of the state of Texas knowing it had been only one year since we’d lost our mother.”

  Ryan reached for his drink. “That pretty much summarizes what he said.”

  Hugging her cushion, she studied his profile in the faint light. “And your own father might not have died if Matthew Walker hadn’t chosen that night to talk to him. Don’t you feel any resentment for that?”

  “Have you forgotten that I spent my life hating him from the day Dad committed suicide?”

  “You were a boy hating a faceless person, someone you’d conjured up in your imagination. I’m talking about Louie.”

  “My dad’s fate was set when he made it known he was going to the Feds, Liz. It was a reckless decision to advertise his intentions before actually doing it. And it killed him. Matthew Walker had nothing to do with my dad’s murder.”

  She cupped the brandy snifter with both hands. “I’m sorry, but it feels a lot more personal than that to me.”

  “It was personal for both of us, Lizzie.”

  “Yes, but you have the comfort of knowing your father was honorable.” She looked at him with anguish. “My father was not.”

  “He did the right thing in the end. And I think he’s spent years trying to atone. He’s been a doting father to you for the last five years, even if you didn’t realize it was biological as well as emotional. Can’t you give him some credit for that?”

  “I don’t know, Ryan. I have such painful memories.”

  He finished the brandy and leaned back, resting his head against the leather, looking at her. “Tell me about the letters.”

  “You heard him. A little kid’s fantasy.” She released a weary sigh. She felt tired, and so incredibly sad. “They were the desperate attempts of a child to convince herself that she still had a father. A family.”

  If Ryan noticed that she spoke of herself in third person, he gave no sign. “It sounds to me as if that was Louie’s motivation, too. He must have been as hungry for a connection to you as you were to him.”

  “I poured out my heart in those letters, Ryan. It would have meant so much to me if he had acknowledged one. Just one.”

  “It might have taken only one to blow his cover, did you think of that? It was risky for anybody out of the protection program to know anything.” He waited for her to consider that, then asked, “When did you stop writing?”

  “When realization dawned.” She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped more brandy, but it had taken on a bitter flavor now. “It finally hit me that only crazy people write to someone who’s dead.”

  “Your caseworker, Iris—isn’t that her name?—must have guessed he was alive. Louie’s contact would have had to go through her to get your letters. Did she never give you a hint?”

  “No, never.” She rubbed idly at a spot between her eyes.

  “You’re exhausted.” He took the glass from her and set it on the coffee table. “You’ve had two nasty shocks today. Do you think you could sleep if I ran a warm tub for you? You could take your drink with you and—”

  She leaned forward and touched his lips with her fingertips to silence him. “Enough about Louie and about me and my miserable fate as an orphan. There are other things so much more important tonight and we’ve both been doing everything we can not to think about them.” She put a hand on his chest, looking him in the eye. “Tell me something, Ryan. In your heart of hearts, do you think Jesse and Jennifer will be returned to us unharmed?”

  “Liz—”

  “Be honest with me, Ryan.”

  He caught her hands, both of them, and held them fast. “We can’t allow ourselves to go down that road. Austin’s unstable, we both know that, but he’s still capable of weighing the consequences of doing anything vile to the girls. I think he’s selfish enough not to throw his life away, which is what’ll happen if he hurts them.”

  She held his gaze, fighting the tears welling in her eyes. “I feel like this is my fault, that I’m being punished.”

  He was shaking his head, genuinely puzzled. “How could that be? You’ve been a stable presence in Jesse’s life since she was born. The only stable presence, if you ask me.”

  “That’s just it. I was incredibly arrogant in the way I thought. I was always so critical of the way Gina behaved as a mother. I would have been different, I told myself, had Jesse belonged to me. I told myself I would have done a much better job as a mother.”

  “What’s wrong with that? It’s probably true. Gina definitely made some questionable choices. She really wasn’t a model mom.”

  “No. No-ooo!” She pulled free of his hold and covered her face with her hands. “Gina was kind and funny and loving. I really loved her, I did. It was wrong of me to covet her child behind her back. I feel so guilty about that. And now this awful thing has happened and she’s dead.” Her words were muffled behind her hands. “It’s as if Jesse was handed over to me and then snatched away to punish me for being so…so…presumptuous, thinking I could do better.”

  “Listen to yourself, Liz. If that were true, then Jesse’s paying a price for something she didn’t do.” His voice was close to her ear, deep and quiet and reasoning, his hand stroking her hair. “Come on, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  She felt his arms go around her, pulling her close. “And if we’re going to start looking for reasons that this is personal punishment, then I’m far more guilty than you.” His voice caught, but he cleared his throat and plowed on. “I have been a lousy father to Jen. Even before the divorce, I wasn’t a hands-on dad. I had so many other priorities before my little girl. I spent more time on my boat than I did with Jen. And she knew it. Kids do desperate things when they’re neglected. That’s what the hit and run was about.”

  “The hit and run was an accident,” she said. It was much easier to defend Ryan’s shor
tcomings than her own.

  “An accident, yeah, but the way Jennifer reacted in a crisis was disappointing to me. I’d stake my life on this though—if it happened today, Jen would do the right thing.”

  She raised her head to meet his eyes, uncaring now that he saw her tears. “It’s just so hard to think we might…lose them.”

  “We won’t. He’ll turn up. The car will be spotted. He can only go so far.” He nestled her head beneath his chin. “Steele and that Wyckoff woman are a formidable pair.”

  “Don’t forget Lindsay.” Safe against his chest now, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her fingertips.

  He urged her face up with a finger beneath her chin. “Will you take that bath now? You need some rest.”

  “I’d rather wait here with you.” If there was to be bad news, she wanted Ryan nearby when she was told. She didn’t have the kind of discipline to keep her thoughts at bay that he apparently had.

  “It might be a long night.”

  “I never thought otherwise.”

  “Then let’s get comfortable.” Reaching behind him, he put a cushion against the arm of the sofa and leaned back, bringing her with him. Fortunately, the sofa was oversize and there was plenty of room for him to stretch out his long legs. Too tired to think anymore, Elizabeth relaxed against him and was asleep almost instantly.

  There had not been many moments in Ryan’s life when he felt helpless. With Liz curled next to him, he should have been rejoicing. She was right where he’d wanted her since that first day in the courtroom, although then he’d been in a state of denial. It hadn’t lasted long. She was his, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. Especially not now while she was frozen with fear for the girls and aching with the painful truth about Louie. He’d never thought of himself as a patient man, but Liz would be worth the wait.

 

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