Innocent Lies

by Robin Patchen

  What had possessed him to move to New Hampshire?

  The question chased the lighthearted moment away. He knew why he'd taken a job here, and he knew why he stayed, even now. Even when all hope was lost. He figured he'd die keeping vigil for a woman who'd never return.

  He wouldn't think about her.

  He let his mind drift to Daniel. True to his word, Brady had found out where they'd taken the boy. Apparently, it hadn't been that hard. Brady's friends, Marisa and Nate, had recently been approved to be foster parents, and Daniel had been taken there Monday night. There was something to be said for small-town living.

  Nate and Marisa had been delighted to hear from him when he'd called to check on Daniel on Tuesday. Apparently, Daniel had told them all about the nice police officer who'd found him in the woods. He'd already been to visit a few times that week. Marisa had gone on and on about how smart the kid was. "Daniel was helping Ana with her homework today," Marisa had said. "No idea how he ended up in foster care, but his home life can't have been that bad. The kid is smart, especially for an eight-year-old. He reads like a fifth grader."

  Marisa would know. She'd been working as an aide at the local school. Maybe the boy had had some good teachers in his life. No way that rotten mother of his was responsible.

  They'd had zero luck finding her. She was probably zoned out in some heroin haven in Manchester by now. At least Daniel was safe. Nate and Marisa were good folks with enough love to share with the boy, but he knew they weren't hoping to adopt. Marisa'd worked in an orphanage in Mexico for years, and she had a heart for abandoned kids.

  If they didn't find Daniel's mother, what would happen to the kid? Maybe he'd be better off if they never found her. Except long-term foster care? Would Nate and Marisa keep him for a decade? Would Daniel thrive there?

  It wasn't his problem, but he couldn't seem to keep thoughts of the boy far from his mind.

  Eric pushed through the front door of the police station and passed the dispatcher with a wave. Inside the squad room, he headed for his desk. Only one desk was occupied. His friend, Donny, was booking a long-haired woman. All he could see from here was a thin parka and the woman's shoulders. The way she was sitting, it looked like her hands were cuffed behind her back. Donny asked for her name, and her answer carried across the empty room.

  "I can't tell you that."

  Eric froze in the middle of the room.

  The voice was familiar. Pleading, afraid. He'd never heard her voice like that. He shook his head. It couldn't be her.

  The woman leaned across the desk. "You have to call that number I gave you."

  Donny was using his most patient voice. "How am I supposed to ask about a woman whose name I don't know?"

  She leaned even further forward, almost a posture of begging. Her voice... That voice. "When you have her on the phone—"

  "Name." Donny's voice left no room for arguing, but the woman only shook her head.

  "I can't. You don't understand. I can't."

  It was the way she said those words. The accent. Southern, but not Texas. Deep south. Like...

  "Fine." Donny stood. "Maybe a couple hours in jail will change your mind."

  Eric crossed the room, his heart pounding a drumbeat, hoping, afraid to hope.

  Donny pulled the woman to her feet, and she turned. Just a fraction. Just enough.

  There were no words. Or maybe every word he'd ever know. Words of love, words of hate. Word of heartbreak. Too many words. Too many feelings.

  She hadn't seen him. She stumbled, crumpled, and Eric stepped forward, took her arm, spoke to Donny. "Don't touch her."

  Donny swiveled to face him, eyes wide.

  "I..." Eric swallowed, couldn't look at her. Had to, to be sure. He took a deep breath and faced her.

  Her hair was much longer, lighter than it had been. But her eyes, the color of the sky. Wide with fear. Maybe something else. Her jaw dropped. Looked like she didn't have words, either.

  "Remove the cuffs."

  "She's under arrest," Donny said.

  Eric faced his friend, took a step closer. He was the detective here. He had rank. "I said, remove the cuffs."

  Donny did as he was told and backed away.

  "I'll take it from here." Eric tugged on her arm, and she stepped beside him, then hobbled on her left foot. She was injured.

  He didn't stop to think and sure wasn't going to check Donny's reaction. He scooped her up and carried her into the conference room, where he closed the door behind him with his foot. It slammed, and the noise bounced off the silence in the empty space.

  He set her on a chair, then stood back. Stared.

  She stared, too.

  A moment passed, and then she opened her mouth. "I—"

  "Don't."

  She snapped her jaw closed.

  He looked at her lips. Cracked and colorless. Trembling. He'd always loved her heart-shaped face. High cheekbones. Healthy and pink. But right now, sunken. Emaciated. Her usually bright eyes were dull and rimmed in red. Her pearly skin was mottled, pale.

  She was injured. Looked like she hadn't eaten in days.

  She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

  He stepped closer, held out his hand. She took it, stood, and stepped into his embrace.

  They stayed like that a long time. His arms around her. Her face against his chest. He inhaled her scent. Beyond shampoo and sadness, his Kelsey was here.

  She sobbed against his shirt, and he knew exactly how she felt.

  He could have stayed like that forever.

  The door banged open. Kelsey jumped like a skittish cat, but Eric held her close. He shifted, saw the chief in the door.

  "Your sister?" Brady asked.

  They both knew she wasn't. Eric only had brothers.

  When he didn't answer, Brady said, "In-law? Mother? Cousin?"

  Eric couldn't form words.

  "Even if she's an old friend, Nolan, we have rules." Brady's voice trailed off as he stared at the scene. "Why don't you step back."

  Eric glanced down, saw Kelsey's gaze averted. She was holding onto him as if he were the only handhold on a high canyon wall. He was holding just as tight.

  "Ma'am," Brady said. "Sit down."

  Her fists tightened around the fabric of his shirt.

  "Give me a minute," Eric said. "Please."

  Brady crossed his arms. "I need to know who she is."

  There was no other option. He gazed down at the top of her head as words he feared he'd never get to say filled his mouth, settled on his tongue. He considered all the chips falling and all the places they might land. Considered how, once the words were out, he could never pull them back. Brady could never un-know. Eric could never go back to being the man he'd pretended to be for a decade.

  Not that he wanted to.

  "Don't," she said.

  Eric ignored her. She'd lost her influence a long time ago. He met Brady's steady gaze.

  "She's my wife."

  Unflappable Brady flapped. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Then narrowed. He started to speak, stopped, seemed to see the moment differently, and nodded. "I need to see you when you're finished."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And Eric? She's still in custody."

  Brady closed the door behind him.

  Kelsey exhaled a long breath, almost a sigh. But they had a lot of territory to cover before anybody could relax.

  "We should sit," he said. "You're hurt."

  She didn't move. "Just a sprain."

  "Even so."

  She let go of his shirt and sat, and he took the chair beside her. Swiveled it to face her. Couldn't stop staring at that face.

  Her gaze was unwavering. "I would never have left you."

  Eric swallowed a decade of loss. "I know."

  "I didn't mean for you to see me."

  He knew that, too. If she'd wanted to see him, all she had to do was call. He'd kept the same Texas cell phone number just for that reason, was teased
about it mercilessly by his local friends and his family back in Plano.

  She'd never called. Not even a hang-up that might've hinted she was alive, hinted she was thinking of him.

  "I guess there's a story," he said.

  "A very long one."

  "Okay."

  He sat back, saw her lip trembling, wanted to pull her into his arms again. But for every ounce of love he held for this woman, he had an ounce of sadness and an ounce of worry and, though he hated to admit it, an ounce of rage.

  "I can't."

  "Course not." He swiveled, stood so fast, his chair rolled back and hit the wall. "If you could have explained, you'd have done it a decade ago."

  "I...it's a very long story."

  "So you said. I guess you've been too busy in the last thirty-six hundred days, too. Too busy to call me. Let me know you're alive. Do you know they think you're dead?"

  She lifted her chin. Not surprised. Not ashamed.

  "Of course you know," Eric said. "You know how they grieved you? How your mother...?" He could still picture the woman now. Two daughters, both lost tragically. "She looked like...like a walking corpse at your memorial service." Not that he'd gotten that close. He hadn't been invited to sit with the family. Hadn't been invited back to the house after. He was just the friend from school. Nobody had known. Nobody'd ever known.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she looked down. He could see the racking sobs, but he couldn't comfort her. Some words needed to be spoken.

  "What about you?" Her voice was small, and he'd hardly heard the words.

  "What about me what?"

  "You didn't grieve me?"

  He laughed, a short, angry sound that probably pierced her soul. "I never believed it."

  She looked up then. "You didn't? Not ever?"

  "No body, no weapon? Nothing but an anonymous call. You probably made the call yourself."

  "A friend did it for me."

  And there it was, the admission. He'd always believed she'd staged it. Believed it, but questioned his own belief. Because his Kelsey wasn't cruel, but to let those who loved her best believe her dead?

  "I had to," she said. "And I have to stay dead."

  CHAPTER NINE

  They stared at each other across the small space. Kelsey could see the pain she'd caused play across Eric's features. Maybe she should have just faded away and died. If not for Daniel, she might have.

  Daniel had given her a reason to fight, to survive.

  Would she ever get her son back now?

  A knock sounded on the door. Eric crossed the room and opened it.

  The man who'd been here before, the boss, she figured, stood outside. "We need her name."

  "No!"

  Both men turned to her, but she focused on Eric. "I know I owe you an explanation. I'll tell you everything." Almost everything. "But you can't put my name in any system. You can't." The very thought of it made her body tremble, her voice shake. "I'm begging you. Please."

  The fury she'd seen on Eric's face faded. Now, she saw her own fear reflected. He turned to the other man. "She was giving Donny a phone number to call."

  The man looked at her. Blew out a breath. Crossed the room and held out his hand. "Brady Thomas, Chief of Police."

  She shook it, tried to smile. "The woman you need to call is Sally Bowman. She's a Miami detective. Just tell her Kelsey, okay? Tell her Kelsey from two-thousand-seven. She'll know. She should know." Kelsey prayed Detective Bowman would remember her and be able to help.

  "I'm assuming the last name is Nolan," the chief said.

  She glanced at Eric, then back at the chief. "Nobody knows that. Look, if she doesn't remember me, then...then I don't know what to do. I'm afraid if I give you a last name, somebody somewhere will type it into some system, and then..."

  "What?" It was Eric who'd spoken. He walked closer, crossed his arms. "What do you think will happen then?"

  "He'll find me."

  "Who? Who'll find you?"

  She ignored Eric, looked at the chief, who nodded.

  "I'll make the call myself." He turned to Eric. "You'll stay with her?"

  Of course Eric would stay. He'd question her further. He must've had a million questions.

  "I need some air." Eric turned and walked out of the room.

  The chief watched him go, then looked back at her with pity. She waited for him to say something stupid, something about how Eric would get over it, how it would all be okay. Instead, he stepped closer and gripped her arm. "I don't need to cuff you, do I?"

  "No, sir."

  "Okay. Come on."

  She stood, stepped, and winced again. Her stupid ankle.

  He shifted to stand on her left and put his hand under her upper arm. With his help, she managed to walk slowly beside him.

  "You need medical attention?"

  "It's just a sprain."

  "There's a doctor a couple doors down. I'll see if he can take a look. Maybe it needs to be wrapped."

  They crossed the big room with the desks. She could feel eyes on her, but she didn't dare look. The chief stopped at a door, waited for a low buzz, and then pushed it open. They stepped in, and the door slammed behind them.

  It was a hallway. One side wall, the other, bars.

  "You're our only visitor today." He pushed open the door to the first cell—looked like there were only two—and helped her to the bed on the far side, where she sat.

  He stepped back, and she thought sure he'd leave her there. Instead, he crossed his arms and studied her. She waited for all the questions she couldn't answer. But all he said was, "You hungry?"

  She nearly cried with relief. "Starved."

  "We got a great cafe down the street. What sounds good?"

  "I have no money."

  He laughed. "I'm pretty sure you're the first prisoner who ever worried about paying. I'll get it if your...husband won't."

  Husband. He'd tripped over the word, and she knew how he felt.

  "I'm starved. I'll eat anything you bring me."

  "I'll make that call now and get you some food. I'm sure Eric will..." But he didn't finish the statement.

  "It's fine. I need time to process, too."

  After the chief left, Kelsey scooted into the corner on the thin mattress. She pulled one knee up, careful of that stupid ankle, and hugged herself.

  As prisons went, this wasn't too bad. She was alone. She was safe. She didn't have to fear the jiggling of keys, the sound of torture and pain and humiliation.

  No. It was tenderness that would torture her here. She thought of Eric's touch, thought of all that she'd lost and all she'd still lose if she didn't figure a way out of this mess. And how much more it would hurt to leave this time.

  Tears filled her eyes. She couldn't think of Eric.

  Daniel. What would he think of her now, his mother, locked in jail? In all his games of make-believe, he always caught the bad guys. Now, she was one of them.

  She couldn't think of Daniel, either.

  This cell didn't offer a lot of distractions. She'd been in worse prisons. Rooms without bars, without windows, with only locked doors and darkness. And sounds—crying girls, jiggling keys, and evil men.

  As locked rooms went, this was one of the better ones she'd experienced. Except this one would signal the death of her dreams.

  Hadn't she told herself, over and over, that as long as she didn't get arrested, she could make this work? Hadn't she told herself she could survive anything, anything but this?

  How could she bring down Carlos from a jail cell? That was all assuming the police didn't type her name into some system that would tell Carlos she was here. Eric knew her name, married and maiden. If he shared it... Carlos would find her.

  Fine.

  She'd always known she'd die at his hands. But Carlos wouldn't kill her until he'd located Daniel.

  Daniel. The only reason she was alive. The only thing she had to live for.

  But Eric was here now. She had him, too. Her husb
and. Her life. Her soul.

  If only she didn't have to leave him again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Eric stormed out of the police station.

  He'd longed for Kelsey to return to him. Ten long years, he'd waited for her. And now, he couldn't get away fast enough.

  All she'd said—and it was hardly anything compared to what she owed him—but of all the words, what reverberated now was that first breathless confession.

  I would never have left you.

  And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Did he believe those six words?

  She'd been taken. He knew that. He'd investigated enough to have an inkling of what had happened to her. He knew just enough of her story to give him nightmares for years. To keep him up at night, imagining all she'd been through. But he suspected she'd been free for a long time, ever since that bogus report that she'd been murdered. He'd waited. All these years, he'd waited for her.

  She hadn't come home.

  Had Kelsey had a choice? Of course she had. She could have chosen to confide in him from the beginning. She could have chosen to trust him. She could have chosen, in all these years, to reach out to him. If nothing else, she could have chosen to divorce him. At least that way, he could've moved on with his life.

  At least, she could have tried. But he'd have fought that, because he'd have known.

  He still knew.

  His love for Kelsey wasn't the kind of thing that came around more than once in a lifetime. It was unique. It was untarnished. It was eternal.

  And her love for him was no different.

  Maybe he was a fool to still believe that. Well, he'd been a fool to wait for her, hadn't he? When he'd told her mother he believed Kelsey was still alive, she'd called him as much.

  The woman had been afraid to hope. Afraid to believe.

  She'd ordered him off her stoop and told him to never return.

  Kelsey's stepfather had threatened to call the police.

  Her stepbrothers had stood behind their father, arms crossed, eyes glaring.

  Eric had walked away. He'd never seen them again.

  For years, he'd wondered if Mrs. MacKenzie had been right to accept her daughter's death. If Eric could have, maybe he'd have moved on. But the pieces never added up.