by Brenda Novak
He could tell she wasn’t set on staying. This was an attempt to entice her. But she couldn’t leave, not unless she wanted to walk right back into Sly’s arms. She needed the job, needed the money.
“Um...” She almost said it wasn’t necessary that he go to the trouble. She’d been programmed from birth to say those types of things, to be polite. And although it never got very cold—their weather was much like that of Santa Barbara twenty minutes away—it was a little chilly this morning. Thick dark clouds blotted out the sun, showing signs of rain. But she was frightened enough that the idea of staying outside did raise her comfort level. She had to be cautious. Had to be around for her son, after all. She didn’t like the way his father treated him. That was part of the reason she’d finally gathered the strength and determination to leave Sly, despite what she knew he’d put her through. He wasn’t proud of Jayden like he should be; most of the time he acted embarrassed of their sweet, gentle boy.
She drew a deep breath. “The weather’s not too bad. Sitting outside would be a great idea. If you don’t mind,” she added lamely.
“I don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he disappeared, she twisted around to see her car, trying to gauge the distance in case she had to kick off her shoes and make a run for it. The El Camino wasn’t all that far. Since she’d parked it outside the gate, where there’d be no danger of getting blocked in, she could make a quick getaway, if necessary.
Somewhat relieved to have Dawson occupied elsewhere for the moment, she hurried to the porch as best she could without turning an ankle and gazed at the dry rot and warped boards that needed to be replaced while telling herself to calm down.
When he returned with a small table and then a tray supporting two cups of coffee, as well as cream and sugar, she wished she would’ve said no to the coffee. She’d been so preoccupied it hadn’t occurred to her he might’ve spiked it.
“Have a seat.” Next, he brought out chairs and placed hers—rather strategically, she thought—near the stairs and away from him. “It’s great to meet you. I appreciate you coming out here in spite of...in spite of everything.”
She didn’t deserve any gratitude. She wouldn’t have come if she’d had a better choice. “Sure. It’s okay.”
“Would you like cream? Sugar?”
She went through the process of adding cream and one packet of sugar to her coffee even though she couldn’t drink it.
“So...you live in Silver Springs?” he asked when she finished.
She met his eyes, tried to determine if they were lifeless. She’d heard that serial killers had emotionless, flat eyes, like those of a shark. But she wasn’t sure a man who killed his parents for the sake of financial gain counted as a serial killer. Probably not. And there didn’t seem to be anything unappealing about Dawson’s eyes. The reverse was actually true. They were such an odd, arresting color and fringed with the longest, thickest gold-tipped lashes. “I do,” she said.
“How long have you been in the area?”
“Since I was ten. My folks moved here, wanted to get out of the rat race of LA.”
“Your parents are in town, then?”
The wind came up, but other than trying to hold her hair back with one hand while gripping her coffee, she resisted the temptation to react to the cold. After making him bring everything outside, she didn’t want him to suggest they go in. “No, not anymore.” She set her cup on the stand with the cream and sugar. “My mother had a rare kidney disease. That was part of the reason for the move, although I didn’t know it at the time. We lost her when I was fourteen. My father finished raising me, but he died of a heart attack—while jogging—the year after I was married.”
“I’m sorry you lost your parents so early.”
“I guess we all have our problems.” She felt silly after she’d made that statement. No question his problems had been worse. At least she hadn’t been accused of killing her parents.
He took a drink of his coffee. “Any siblings?”
“No. I was an only child.”
When his free hand came up, she flinched before realizing that he was merely swatting a bug, and her cheeks began to burn with embarrassment when he scooted his chair even farther away. Obviously, he’d noticed that she wasn’t quite comfortable with him. She hoped he hadn’t also noticed that she had yet to take a sip of her coffee.
“So you’re married.”
She picked up her cup and cradled it with both hands, trying to leach the warmth from it. “Not anymore. Well, the divorce isn’t quite final, but that’s a technicality. We’ve been separated for over a year.” Conjuring what she hoped was a pleasant smile, she marveled that she was able to condense the hell Sly had put her through—was still putting her through—into such a mild statement. “Trying to work out the details, you know.”
He watched her closely, seemed intent on figuring out what she was thinking and feeling. Did killers do that? “Those things can take time.”
“Are you speaking from experience? Or...” She didn’t remember reading anything about him having a wife.
“No.”
“No children, either?”
“Not for me. You?”
“One. A boy named Jayden. He’s five.” She couldn’t help smiling, vaguely, when she thought of her son.
“Does he live with you or—”
She felt her smile wilt. “Yeah, he’s with me. His father has visitation every other weekend, but...Sly’s a police officer, so he works long hours.” Or he was at the gym. “I have Jayden most of the time.” Which was why it didn’t make a lot of sense that Sly would ever sue her for custody. He didn’t really want custody. He was using Jayden, along with anything else he could, as a weapon against her.
Dawson pursed his lips. “So that’s the connection.”
She peered at him. “What’re you talking about?”
“I thought maybe you were Officer Harris’s sister or something. But no—you’re married to him.”
She stiffened at the mention of her ex-husband’s name. “Was married. Why? You know him?”
“Not personally.” Leaning forward, he poured a bit of cream in his coffee, added one sugar as he’d seen her do and slid the cup over to her. “You saw me drink out of this, so other than a few germs you wouldn’t otherwise encounter, you should be able to trust it.”
Surprised he’d be so direct, she floundered for something to say in return. “That’s not it. I’m just...jittery enough without the caffeine.”
He said nothing, but she could tell he wasn’t fooled by the lie.
“So...how have you heard of my ex-husband?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “He didn’t have anything to do with...with the investigation...”
“No. I was arrested by a homicide detective. Officer Harris wasn’t involved in the case. But he dropped by last night.”
Her surprise overtook her anxiety, even made her forget about the cold air that seemed to be passing through her blouse like a mesh screen. “He came here? Why?”
Rain began to plink on the roof. “To let me know he’ll be keeping an eye on me,” he replied.
“For...”
“Anything I might do he doesn’t approve of, I suppose. Sounded like he was looking forward to the challenge of keeping me in line.”
Sadie figured she shouldn’t be surprised that Sly would try to bully Dawson. He was the big, tough cop—thought he could bully anyone. Of course he’d pile on when it came to the town pariah. “Was he in uniform?”
A wry smile tugged at Dawson’s lips. “His appearance wouldn’t have had the same impact without it.”
Her nails curved into her palms as the anger and bitterness she’d had to live with for so long once again rose inside her, burning her throat like bile. “Please tell me he didn’t mention me
...”
“Not by name. Said there was a woman coming to interview with me in the morning. And that she wasn’t the person I was looking for.”
She felt her jaw drop. “He threatened you?”
“If you consider ‘You’ve had enough trouble, it wouldn’t be smart to ask for any more’ a threat.”
This was the first time anyone had been brave enough to admit that Sly had attempted to ruin her chances of gaining employment.
Too upset to sit any longer, Sadie came to her feet. “That...that...” She wasn’t sure if she meant to say, “That isn’t fair,” or “That really pisses me off,” because both sentences ran through her mind at once. But when she got angry, she often broke into tears, especially when it came to her ex-husband. He made her feel so helpless, so easily overpowered—and he was relentless in his determination to get her back or make her pay, supremely confident he’d win in the end.
Would she never be free of him?
Falling silent for fear her voice would crack, she turned so that Dawson Reed couldn’t see her face and stared out at the rain.
Thankfully, he didn’t press her to finish her statement. He sat behind her in silence, giving her time to compose herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she could speak without evidence of tears in her voice. “I know you’ve been through...quite an ordeal. I-I’ll get out of your way.”
She’d already started down the stairs when he spoke. “Mrs. Harris...”
“Please, call me anything but that.” She wished she could use her maiden name, but she knew how Sly would perceive such a move, how embarrassed he’d be. She’d do it one day. She’d made a promise to herself. But, at the moment, there were too many other, more important battles to fight—and win.
“Sadie.”
The rain was falling harder now, soaking her blouse and skirt, but she didn’t care that she was getting wet. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, letting it wash away her makeup and run her mascara. What did things like that matter, anyway?
“Don’t leave...” Dawson had followed her. From his voice, he was right behind her, but he didn’t touch her. She wished, if he was a deranged killer intent on committing another murder, he’d hurry up and get it over with, because she no longer had the energy to keep soldiering on. Sly made her feel that cornered, that hopeless.
But then she thought of Jayden being stranded with only Sly to guide him through life and came back to the truth: She couldn’t give up. If this wasn’t going to work, she’d have to figure out some other way to build a new life.
She left him in the yard, was almost to her car when he caught up and grabbed her by the arm. Thanks to the wind and rain she hadn’t heard him following her. She nearly screamed, but he let go as soon as she turned, lifting his hands as if he’d only been trying to get her attention and had no plans to harm her. “Stay a little longer,” he said. “Please. We haven’t talked about the job.”
Because she was unable to hold her tears in check, they rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. “You can’t hire me now,” she said. “You have no idea what he’ll do. He’ll make your life so miserable you’ll wish you were still in jail.”
He wiped the rain from his own face. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“Why?”
“I need you.”
Sadie shielded her eyes with one hand. “To make your meals? To clean your house? You can do that yourself—and save a lot of money.”
“That’s not it. I won’t be able to get my sister out of the institution where they put her if I don’t have someone to look after her while I’m on the farm. She’s mentally handicapped, could try to cook and burn down the house. Or go outside and wander off. There’s a pond out back. Wouldn’t be safe if she got around it.”
Sadie had forgotten about Angela Reed! She hadn’t been mentioned in the media since Lonnie and Larry’s bodies were discovered. Now that he’d brought her up, however, Sadie remembered reading, early on, that the Reeds’ daughter had to be institutionalized when they were killed and Dawson was imprisoned. She also remembered reading that Angela had been home during the murders but had been left unharmed, which wasn’t a point in Dawson’s favor. The police claimed her well-being served as proof that he was behind the killings since only those who had to be removed in order for him to inherit had been harmed. “You want to bring her here?” she asked, gesturing at the weed-infested farm.
“I’m going to bring her here,” he clarified as if nothing could stop him. “This is her home. This is where she’d prefer to be. And she’s waited long enough. We both have.”
Sadie adjusted the strap on her purse. “So what would I be doing, exactly? I’ve never cared for someone who...who can’t manage the basics. You might have to advertise for a nurse or—”
“Angela isn’t on any meds. She manages, at a very basic level. She’s similar to...to a five-year-old. Like your son. She just needs some guidance, some reassurance and oversight.”
“And you can’t do it?”
“What if she got confused and wouldn’t come out of the bathroom? Or needed help in the shower? I couldn’t go in—but you could.”
“You’re saying I’d be like a...a female companion. A babysitter.”
“Exactly. You’d make sure she bathes every morning. Puts on clean underwear and clothes. Has a healthy breakfast and is able to watch her favorite shows. You’d read to her, play games with her, take her out for walks. And you’d fix her lunch and dinner, since I won’t be finished until sundown or later. You’d also do laundry and help keep the house clean so I won’t have that to face when I come in at night—pretty much everything you do for your son. But you could bring him along, watch them both at the same time, if you like. That would save on child care, if that’s something you’re paying for now. And Angela would love having a little boy around—she’s always loved kids. She’s gentle, sweet. You wouldn’t have to worry about her ever hurting him.”
Sadie loved the idea of spending more time with her son. Saving on child care, which was such a big part of her monthly budget, sounded appealing, too, not to mention how much she’d miss Jayden if she was working more hours.
But she wasn’t worried about Angela hurting her son...
Besides, Sly would never put up with her bringing Jayden to this place. He’d claim she was endangering their son, would use such “reckless behavior” against her if he ever did sue for custody. “I have a good situation for him already.” She paid Petra Smart, a mother who had three children of her own and lived down the street from her, to watch him, so she did feel as if he was in good hands. But the money. There was never enough money.
“That’s up to you, of course.”
She rubbed her arms against the cold. “So...while I help with your sister, you’re going to be doing...what? Putting this place back together?”
“Yes. I have to get it up and working, make it productive again. I’ll be honest. That’s the only way I’ll be able to care for us both—and pay you—beyond summer.”
With a sigh, Sadie wrung her hands. She’d be taking a big risk. Spending so much time alone with someone like Dawson. Letting go of the job she had now on the off chance that working as his sister’s caregiver might pan out. She’d never done anything like that before, had no idea whether she and Angela would get along.
But she had to make a change, couldn’t go on the way she was. She was falling further and further behind, and that hurt anyone who trusted her enough to give her credit. “You’re not going to perform a background check before giving me the job?”
“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
“You are?”
“I knew your ex-husband was an asshole in about five seconds.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m
sure I’ll find nothing amiss,” he added. “Am I right?”
“Yes, but—you really shouldn’t take my word for it.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Sadie. How many people from Silver Springs are there who’d be willing to work for me?”
He had a point. The whole town was embittered. The Reeds had been well-loved. Those who knew them wanted someone to pay for their deaths. And most were convinced it should be him. “Have you received any other calls on the ad?” she asked.
“I’ve had several. They all hang up as soon as they realize I’m the one who’s looking for help.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of a pair of faded jeans, which fit him so well she couldn’t help noticing. “So what do you say? Will you give it a shot? I promise you’ll get paid, at least for the next six months. Although I don’t have a lot, it’s enough to carry us through August.”
What then? She had a kid to take care of. If he couldn’t pay her, she’d have no choice except to go back to Sly. But she’d only have to go back to him sooner if she didn’t take this chance. “When would you like me to start?”
His lean, spare features softened with relief. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
She was so wet and cold now that she was beginning to shiver. “I’m a waitress over at Lolita’s Country Kitchen. I had no idea I’d get this job, still have to give two weeks’ notice.”
“Okay, but...can you come here when you don’t have to be there? I was hoping you’d be able to help me get the house ready, so that I can prove I have a safe and clean environment for Angela. They’ll check before they let me take her.”
This was happening much quicker than Sadie had expected. “Sure. Okay. I get off at noon tomorrow. I’ll come over right after.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod and a wave, she trudged the rest of the way to her car. She had a new job. She’d be earning $3000 a month—almost twice what she was earning now, which would allow her to make ends meet, stand on her own.
The prospect of maintaining her freedom brought such relief, such exhilaration. Finally, she had something to be happy about. She’d struck a deal with Dawson in spite of Sly. That single act of defiance felt good, as if she was taking another leap forward in regaining control of her life.