Doggone

by Herkert, Gabriella

  A new word for his sister’s vocabulary. A nice complement to my fashion advice. Oh, brother.

  ‘‘Gretchen was already established. Making a reputation with her books. On the pundit circuit. Jack would never have been asked to join the practice if I hadn’t written the check. That means it’s mine. His precious career. I’m taking it back.’’

  Jack was going to blow a gasket.

  ‘‘The house. The cars. The boat. The clothes. Everything. He barely makes a living. Did you know that? Oh, he gets invited to the right panels and the right seminars. Gets his name in the program. Gretchen Dreznik and Jackson Reed, partners in a prestigious San Diego private practice.

  I unearthed the shoe. Keys. I needed keys. Oh, no. No car. I needed a car. I tripped into the kitchen. Phone book. Cab. Cab. Damn. Try taxi.

  ‘‘Come here, Siobhan. We’ll talk about it.’’

  The background noise stopped abruptly. A car door slammed.

  ‘‘Don’t worry. I’ll call you after. Thanks, Sara. Without you I couldn’t have done this.’’

  Oh, dear Lord.

  Chapter Forty-three

  The cab showed up in less than five minutes. A week of my salary had him driving like he lived south of the border. Thank God he accepted plastic. Money did make the world go around. Fast. Very, very fast. I prayed Siobhan had gone to Jack’s office. I didn’t know where else to go and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. Not a good sign. Connor was also not picking up when I called. Much as I’d like to handle his sister’s sudden burst of castration frenzy without getting him involved, if Siobhan was meeting Jack somewhere else, I’d need his help figuring it out. It wasn’t their house. She’d been in the car. If it was Jack’s new bachelor pad, I was out of luck.

  The cab squealed to a stop and the driver grinned wickedly. ‘‘Quick enough, missus?’’

  ‘‘Like a bat out of hell.’’ I signed the charge slip and he handed me my credit card.

  ‘‘You want another ride, ask for Enrique.’’

  ‘‘Thanks. I’ll do that.’’ After I bought more life insurance.

  I could hear an angry voice through the closed door. The receptionist jumped when I entered. Finally, a break.

  ‘‘I have an appointment.’’ I headed straight for his door.

  ‘‘Wait. You can’t go in there.’’

  ‘‘You need a coffee break.’’ I dug into my pocket and handed the startled woman a twenty. She stared. Probably trying to place me. I handed her my last twenty. ‘‘Get some lunch, too. You deserve it, working here.’’

  ‘‘I sure do.’’ She took a purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and left without looking back. I wished I could join her.

  The volume in the office went up a decibel. I opened the door.

  ‘‘You bitch. You stupid, useless bitch.’’ Jack’s face was mottled. The flush on his skin ran all the way down his neck.

  Siobhan was crying. Her face was blotched. I stepped closer. Not blotched. Bruised. Black and blue along her cheek. Her eye was swollen.

  Jack raised his hands.

  I charged, hitting him straight on. Pushing him back over a chair. ‘‘You son of a bitch.’’

  Jack jumped up. Used the chair as a shield. ‘‘What the hell?’’

  ‘‘How dare you hit her? You worthless piece of—’’

  ‘‘I didn’t hit her. I never hit her. She’s crazy.’’

  ‘‘You beat up on me every time you see me. You make me feel stupid,’’ she screamed.

  ‘‘You are stupid.’’

  ‘‘You make me feel incompetent.’’

  ‘‘You are incompetent.’’

  I grabbed the arms of the chair and jammed Jack back against the file cabinet. ‘‘Siobhan, let’s go.’’

  She grabbed me and tried to climb over the chair to get to him.

  ‘‘Let’s just go.’’

  ‘‘You!’’ Jack said, staring at me.

  ‘‘Siobhan . . .’’ I pleaded.

  ‘‘You sent her to spy on me?’’

  Uh-oh. Oh, well. So my cover was blown. I had bigger trouble. Jack reached down and shoved the chair hard. Siobhan fell into me, and we both went head over heels. Tangled on the floor, I was grabbed and jerked upright.

  ‘‘Get your hands off me.’’

  He shook me. My head flopped back and forth. He shook harder, his hands sliding to my neck. His nails dug into the skin above my collarbone. Back and forth, my head slammed against the arm of the chair.

  I heard a banshee scream. My vision blurred. The pressure slackened and I heard a crash, something hitting the bookcase hard. Then he was gone and I was on my hands and knees, choking. I rubbed at the sore skin of my throat. Siobhan lay dazed, splayed like a rag doll against the bookcase.

  I looked up, blinking as the sunshine lit the angel who’d saved me. The one who had Jack by the shirt and was hitting him again and again.

  Connor.

  Chapter Forty-four

  You’re going to kill him. Connor,’’ I screamed. ‘‘Stop. You’ve got to stop.’’

  I dragged at his arm. Jack slumped to the floor. My left hand gripped Connor’s bloodstained shirt. Oh, God, this was so bad. ‘‘Please, Connor. He’s not worth it.’’

  I dropped to my knees next to Jack. I stared at his face. His nose looked broken and blood gushed from his gap-toothed mouth. His left eye was already swollen shut. He was conscious, but barely.

  ‘‘Please, Connor, check Siobhan. Make sure she’s okay.’’

  I looked at him. He was scaring me. I wasn’t afraid of him. He’d never hurt me. Or Siobhan. But Jack . . . Connor didn’t look mad, and yet . . . I looked down at Jack. That was the scariest part. Connor had looked calm the whole time he was pounding Jack. Normal. Connor stared at me. I waited, leaning over Jack, keeping my body between him and Connor.

  Connor strode over to his sister, his fingers touching a trail of blood that ran down her chin. He gathered her close.

  ‘‘Connor?’’ she sobbed.

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Sib.’’ He held her tighter.

  I reached for my cell phone. This was going to be bad. They’d probably blame Connor. Maybe arrest him. They’d grill Siobhan. They’d question me about the case and Jack and everything. I didn’t want Siobhan to have to face that, but I couldn’t see a way around it. I called for an ambulance. Then I called the police. If we didn’t, they’d wonder. We’d look guilty.

  ‘‘He’s not a bad person,’’ Siobhan cried. ‘‘He’s not. Really.’’

  I met Connor’s eyes. His were so cold I felt the chill. I checked Jack’s pulse. Not dead. That was good for us. Sort of. He was breathing okay. His color was bad, except for the bruises that were blooming and the blood coming from his nose.

  ‘‘The police are on their way,’’ I told them. ‘‘An ambulance, too.’’

  ‘‘Okay,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Jack?’’ Siobhan tried to pull away from him, but Connor held on.

  ‘‘He’ll live.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ Siobhan pushed away. She stepped around me and stared down at Jack. I patted her on the back. He was moaning and moving around. Better that she didn’t feel guilty about him dying. Something told me she was going to try to take responsibility for the rest.

  ‘‘Jack,’’ Siobhan cried, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him and held out a hand, stopping just short of touching him. I wanted to pull her away, to get her out of his reach forever. Connor stepped forward, his hands reaching for her, but I held him back.

  ‘‘Siobhan?’’ I tried to make my voice gentle. Nonjudgmental. Get away. Run away. Stay away. He’s a bastard and it’s not your fault.

  ‘‘He was going to hit you.’’ Siobhan’s voice quavered. ‘‘He was going to hurt you.’’ She started to cry.

  ‘‘You saved me,’’ I told her.

  ‘‘I didn’t.’’

  ‘‘You did. You stood up to him and you saved me. That took real courage, Siobhan.’’ I k
nelt next to her, putting an arm around Sib’s shoulders.

  ‘‘I’m a coward. I let him.’’ She shuddered.

  ‘‘You didn’t let him do anything. He did it. Him. He’s the one responsible. Not you. And when it came down to protecting someone else from him, you came through with flying colors. Didn’t she, Connor?’’

  Connor cleared his throat. ‘‘She sure did.’’

  I looked at him and smiled. He hated it. The whole thing. I knew that. But whatever he thought, felt about Jack, he was putting it aside to help his sister.

  ‘‘He never pushed me before.’’ Siobhan said it quietly, without accusation. Guilt ripped through me.

  ‘‘Okay.’’ I put my other arm around Siobhan and held her, rocking gently. It might be true. Maybe he’d never physically hurt her until today, but he sure as hell had put plenty of energy into undermining her. Belittling. Demeaning. Hurting her.

  ‘‘You weren’t afraid of him like I was,’’ Siobhan choked.

  I wondered if she knew how much that said. He’d never hit her before but she was afraid of him? He’d never hurt her, and she flinched when he was mad or upset? Connor moved away, turning his back to us and staring out the window.

  ‘‘I was afraid. He had me in a choke hold. If you hadn’t pulled him off when you did . . . well, thanks.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t. I couldn’t. He was too strong. He was always too strong.’’

  ‘‘You did enough, Siobhan. I was blacking out. You distracted him long enough for me to crawl away. You got injured helping me. I know how hard that was for you.’’

  ‘‘It was my fault.’’

  Siobhan’s whole body shook, leaning against me. A siren wailed in the distance. Connor’s hands clenched and unclenched. If I had to stay in this room for one more minute, I’d grab Jack and finish the job. I had to move. I lifted Siobhan to her feet. Jack moaned and we froze. Connor turned and stepped toward us. I shook my head.

  ‘‘Connor, we should go outside and wait for the ambulance. Siobhan will need some medical attention. And him.’’ I nodded toward Jack. I didn’t look in his direction. The urge to kick him was so strong.

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ Connor led us out of the room and through the reception area, opening the door and stepping out. I took deep breaths. Siobhan sobbed in my arms.

  All those years they’d been treating him like family. He stole from her. He cheated on her. Then, after he’d taken everything else from her, he hit her. I had to will my feet not to take me back into that room. I stayed between Connor and the door. If I felt like this, I couldn’t imagine the control it took for him to keep his hands off Jack.

  Red flashing lights strobed across the hedge before a black-and-white pulled into the parking lot. The ambulance was right behind it. The vehicles stopped and a uniformed officer got out, sliding his baton into a holder on his belt. We waited for them to reach the porch.

  ‘‘Thanks for coming. I’m Commander Connor McNamara. The guy you want is inside.’’ He gestured toward the office.

  ‘‘I’m Officer Denallo.’’ The cop preceded the paramedics into the office and returned a minute later.

  ‘‘Do you want to tell me what happened here, sir?’’ The cop directed the question to Connor but was staring at my neck. His brown eyes moved to the blood on Siobhan’s collar.

  ‘‘His name is Jackson Reed.’’ Connor said. ‘‘When I came in he had his hands around my wife’s throat, and my sister was slumped against the door. I took him out and then we called the police.’’

  ‘‘You took him out, sir?’’

  ‘‘A figure of speech, Officer.’’

  ‘‘Which one of you is the wife?’’

  ‘‘I am.’’ I raised my hand. Siobhan clung to me. One of the paramedics emerged from the office and moved toward Siobhan. She clung to me. I patted her back and turned her so the guy could get a good look at the gash on her chin. He smiled at me.

  ‘‘It’s okay, ma’am. I just need to see.’’

  ‘‘Go ahead, Sib,’’ Connor soothed, coming up behind her. ‘‘He just needs to take a look at you.’’

  ‘‘I’m Sara Townley, Officer.’’

  ‘‘What happened here, ma’am?’’

  ‘‘That man’’—I pointed to Jack, who was being led out of the office by the other paramedic; he glowered— ‘‘assaulted me. And his wife. He was choking me to death when my husband showed up.’’

  ‘‘He’’—the cop pointed toward Jack—‘‘did that to your throat?’’

  I put a hand up. Just touching the skin made the bruises pulse.

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘And he made his wife bleed?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  The cop met Connor’s eyes. ‘‘Next time we’ll be late.’’

  ‘‘I’d appreciate that.’’

  Chapter Forty-five

  ‘‘He didn’t do it.’’

  ‘‘Goddamn it, Sara. Leave it alone.’’

  I shouldn’t have been so direct, I guess. I could understand Connor not wanting to believe it. His sister was in the next room getting stitches and being treated for shock because of what Jack did to her. Her eye was already black from the earlier assault. I was sporting my own bruises. That couldn’t be easy for him to see, either. Jack was a bastard. He was a philandering thief and a bully. But he wasn’t a murderer.

  ‘‘Just listen,’’ I implored.

  ‘‘No,’’ he shouted. ‘‘Enough.’’ He raked his hands through his hair. Pacing, he went to the end of the waiting room and back. Good thing the room was empty. Someone might call the cops. We’d had enough of them for one day.

  ‘‘I know you’re upset, but if you just thought about it . . .’’ I took a step closer, holding my hands out.

  ‘‘There’s nothing to think about.’’ He turned away.

  Siobhan was lying in that hospital bed because I’d been blind. Now the blinders were off. I couldn’t let Connor keep wearing his. ‘‘There is.’’ I pulled at his arm, but he resisted. ‘‘Connor, please.’’

  ‘‘He hit her. He hit you.’’ The words escaped in a whisper.

  Guilt. It killed. I was feeling plenty of my own. I’d as much as drawn a target around Jack. I put my hand on Connor’s cheek. It felt hot. I turned his face to me. He closed his eyes.

  ‘‘Look at me.’’

  ‘‘He beat her.’’

  ‘‘Connor, look at me.’’

  Tears ran down my cheeks. He opened his eyes and flinched.

  ‘‘We don’t know that. She says he didn’t and I believe her. He was mean to her. He yelled and called her names and made her feel bad about herself. All of that is true.’’ Connor tried to pull away but I held on. ‘‘Jackson did that. Not you. It’s horrible, and we should get him out of her life forever for it.’’

  ‘‘She’s protecting him.’’

  I shook my head. ‘‘I don’t think she is. Whatever hold he had on her, she’s past it. She freed herself when she tried to save me. She sees him clearly now.’’

  ‘‘Then why is she being treated for shock?’’

  ‘‘It was a shock. A huge shock. She’d been lying to herself for so long it was hard to face the truth. Especially like that. But if he’d been hitting her before today, she’d have said so. The black eye probably had come from hitting an open medicine cabinet door. Siobhan had been a little free with the mojitos since reality set in. But if Jack had been physical before today, she’d have faced it. There. Right then. Don’t get me wrong. He deserves jail. He deserves worse. But because of what he did to Siobhan during their marriage. Not because he hit her this afternoon, and not because he killed Henry DeVries.’’ I reached down and took his hands. ‘‘You have to have a little faith in her.’’

  ‘‘Faith in her.’’ He jerked away. ‘‘Faith in her? She didn’t do anything wrong.’’

  ‘‘I know. I didn’t mean that she did. I said it wrong. She was a victim. I know that. But she’s standing up for herself now.
She told me Jack didn’t. She said it this morning and she said it again to the cops just now. When she called me I jumped to the conclusion. I sold it to her. That was all me. She said she didn’t see him. She didn’t know who hit her. You’ve got to believe in her.’’

  ‘‘She’s making excuses for him. Protecting him. Even after . . .’’ Connor turned away.

  ‘‘I know it seems like that, but I don’t think that’s what she’s doing. She knows him. Really knows him. She knows he’s an arrogant ass who feeds his own ego by putting other people down. She also knows that he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish his public perception. Siobhan doesn’t think Jack had anything to do with DeVries. I believe it. You told me he didn’t have the stomach. Everything he’s done supports that.’’

  ‘‘He could have hired—’’

  ‘‘Yeah. He could have used your family connections to hire someone. Keep his hands clean. Then how do you explain this afternoon?’’

  ‘‘He’s unraveling.’’

  ‘‘Then he goes back to his office and sees patients?’’

  Connor slumped onto a sofa, his head in his hands. I sat next to him. ‘‘Whoever hurt Siobhan tried to knock her out first. Jack wouldn’t have done that. He couldn’t watch her shrivel that way. That’s what turns him on, Connor. The private demoralization. DeVries was different, too. Impersonal. In public. Neither of those things fits with what we know about Jack.’’

  ‘‘DeVries met John Doe. DeVries was a reporter. He’d follow up. He’d check out Charles Smiths. He’d check out Smiths’s doctor. It was only a matter of time before Jack was exposed. For fraud. For being a hack. What difference would it make? Jack’s life would get flushed. That’s plenty of motive. Add means. We certainly had the money to hire someone. He could use some military connection he met through us. Even dropped the McNamara name. There are plenty of guys we’ve served with who would think it was their duty to help us if they were convinced we needed it. They’d do it without question and without checking first. Give us plausible deniability. Or Gretchen is big in the prison reform world. Jack could have met a hundred guys who’d kill their own mother for cash. Either way, Jack had means.’’