Innocent Lies

by Robin Patchen

  Eric kept his hands lifted near his shoulders and turned toward the woods.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  When she'd first seen Carlos in the doorway, Kelsey had only stared. The bright light behind him had cast him in silhouette, but the voice, the presence, were unmistakable.

  She'd frozen, and not from the biting cold or the falling snow. More than nine years had passed since she'd seen Carlos. She'd let herself believe she would never see him again.

  What a fool.

  "Come, mi dulce." He'd beckoned her forward with his old nickname for her. "We have much to discuss."

  Mateo climbed off the snowmobile and offered his hand. His voice was soft. "Don't make it harder than it has to be."

  She took his hand, squeezed, and whispered, "Help me."

  He responded just as quietly. "I tried to do that, but you ignored my warning."

  She slid off the snowmobile, and Mateo led her gently to the man in the door. They climbed the steps and stopped one level below Carlos. He towered over them. When he stepped back into the house and the light hit him, his features became clear.

  Creases had set in around his eyes. His dark brown hair hung almost to his shoulders. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days. That didn't surprise her. When he was worried, he didn't bother with little things like shaving and eating. She'd always known when to fear him, most when his beard grew with his hunger. Because when Carlos worried, he hid it behind anger. And anger often came with pain.

  A smile on his lips, but she didn't miss the worry hovering in his eyes. "You are just as beautiful as I remember." He held out his hand.

  Mateo squeezed hers, and for a moment, it was almost as if she had a friend beside her. But Mateo had been and always would be Carlos's man.

  Mateo let go of her, and her hand hung between them awkwardly.

  She didn't want to reach for Carlos. Didn't want to willingly walk to him. But Eric... She had to do what she could for him. Maybe Carlos would let her see him one last time.

  She took Carlos's hand, swallowed a sob, and stepped into the house.

  He led her down a short set of stairs. "We will have privacy down here. My men are busy upstairs, preparing for us to leave."

  She said nothing as they reached the bottom, turned, and walked through a door.

  It was the room from TakeTwo's videos.

  Eric wasn't there.

  Her heart sank. She'd had such hope.

  Carlos led her to the bed. "Please, have a seat."

  She did, and he stood in front of her. His grin was still wide. "Make yourself comfortable. I need to speak with Mateo."

  He stepped into the hallway, leaving her alone.

  She strained to hear their words, but they were too quiet.

  She looked at the windows, considered running. But she had to know where Eric was first. And besides, she probably wouldn't make it to the window before Carlos grabbed her.

  The rest of the room was concrete and metal. Camera equipment was pushed against the far wall. Splinters of wood littered the floor. And...was that blood? Had Carlos lost his temper, smashed a chair? Had Eric been the recipient of that anger?

  She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed. If there was a God, they desperately needed him now.

  A distant gunshot exploded in the silence.

  She jumped, scrambled back on the bed to the wall behind it. Stood, looked out the window.

  Saw nothing but ground and trees.

  Eric. Where was Eric?

  Another gunshot.

  Silence in the hallway. Should she try to escape?

  Footsteps on the stairs, then Mateo burst outside. He froze in the driveway, scanned the forest.

  Then he pulled out his phone.

  A moment later, he returned to the house. The screen door slammed.

  She slid the window open. They were distracted. Now was the time.

  Mateo's voice rose outside the door. She couldn't make out the words as she hefted herself up.

  "Excellent." Carlos's response boomed in the quiet.

  With her knee on the windowsill, she reached forward, grabbed a bush outside the window. The leaves shifted and dropped snow on her.

  Carlos continued. "You will take care of it, and then we'll go."

  She heard the door open behind her. Tried to scramble out.

  A hand gripped her foot and yanked. She fell onto the bed on her face.

  He yanked until she was on the edge of the bed. He released her foot, and she twisted around to face him. Lifted her hands to defend herself.

  Carlos crossed his arms.

  What? No punishment? No backhand? No punch?

  "If you try to escape again," he said, "I will not be as kind. But I understand this is not how you expected your evening to go."

  Cold air blew in from the open window behind her.

  Carlos's smile was just as cold. If anything, it was wider than it had been before. The worry was gone. "It was probably my fault you tried to escape. Rude of me to keep you waiting, mi dolce."

  "I am not your sweet. Where is my husband?"

  "Always with the temper. I see you haven't changed."

  "Nor have you."

  "I suppose not. You asked about Eric, no? Your husband claimed he didn't know where our child was. I decided to believe him."

  Her stomach retched. She thought of the gunshot she'd just heard.

  Her body knew what her mind wouldn't face. Couldn't face.

  Carlos nodded toward the windows. "Mateo's gone to dispose of him. I doubt anyone will ever find his body."

  No.

  The nausea rose. She swallowed it back.

  "You're turning green." Carlos grabbed a small trash can from the far side of the room. "Please, I'd prefer you didn't make a mess. We already have much to clean."

  She took the can, vomited into it. Wiped her mouth with Mateo's jacket.

  "Are you ill?" he asked. "You always threw up easily. Of course, you were..."

  His voice trailed off. She looked up to see his eyes had narrowed.

  "If you are pregnant now, I will kill you."

  Pregnant? He was insane. But oh, how she wished she were carrying Eric's child, to have a piece of him with her to the end.

  "Are you pregnant?" Carlos demanded.

  She couldn't speak. Because Eric couldn't be dead. All she'd wanted was to see him one last time.

  She should have run. In the woods, she should have at least tried. Just now, she shouldn't have wasted time. She should have gone out the back window while Mateo was out front.

  Maybe they'd have hurt her. Maybe they'd have shot her. But at least she'd have tried. Eric was gone anyway. She'd never get Daniel back now.

  What did she have to live for?

  Carlos gripped her arm and squeezed. "Are you pregnant?"

  "No." She looked at his hand, which was white-knuckled against the thick parka and squeezing into her flesh.

  He removed it, stepped back, lifted his eyebrows. "If you're lying, I'll know soon enough."

  She focused on the concrete floor beneath her feet. If only she could melt into it, disappear. She'd do anything, anything, to not be here.

  Carlos took the soiled trash can to the far side of the room. When he returned, he stood in front of her. "Are you sick?"

  "You just told me my husband is dead. I guess my stomach didn't like the news."

  He seemed to accept that. Didn't seem to care. "Where is my child?"

  She smiled, though she doubted it looked any more natural than it felt. "I have no idea. I gave her up for adoption."

  His eyebrows lifted. "But I know that's not true. You were spotted, you see. A few years ago in Shreveport. My contact photographed you with a child. It was hard to tell, but it looked very much like a boy."

  He'd seen her there? Thank God she'd moved on before Carlos had caught up with her. "In Shreveport?" She forced a laugh. "I was working as a nanny. The kid he saw belonged to a couple of doctors who'd hired me to take care of h
im."

  Carlos shook his head. "You were always quick with the lies."

  "Why would I keep your kid, Carlos? Did you think I could ever love a child of yours? My luck, she'd grow up to be a tyrant, just like her father."

  "A tyrant?" His temper flashed in his eyes, and his hand rose.

  She winced, shrunk away from the blow she knew would come.

  Carlos relaxed his fist and lowered his arm. "Ah, mi dulce, after all this time, must we fight?" He sat beside her on the bed. "I don't want to hurt you. I long for him, you know? I long for my son like I've never longed for anyone. I need to see my son."

  "It was a girl."

  He launched himself up, turned, and shouted. "I do not believe a word you say. It was boy. It is a boy."

  "It is not an 'it.'" She glared at him. "We're talking about a human being. Not property. Unfortunately, you don't know how to treat people as anything but property. And you will never get your hands on my child."

  "Your child?" He crouched down, put his hands on either side of her face, pressed. "Our child."

  If he knew the truth, he'd kill her.

  She should tell him.

  Tears burned her eyes, but what right did she have to cry? She'd caused all of this. She'd led these evil people to this town, to her husband. She'd led her husband to his death.

  He released her face. "Mi dulce, I've longed for you as well." His gaze softened, roved over her face, her body.

  She leaned away from him. His anger, she was prepared for. But that look... She remembered that look. She wouldn't land in his bed, not again. She'd die first.

  "All these years," he said, "all these years, and I still dream about you. I roll over in bed expecting to find you, always to find someone else. A warm body, sí. A beautiful body. But not yours." He kneeled in front of her. "I want you back. I want things to be the way they were before."

  "You murdered my sister."

  He waved his hand as if he were flicking away a fly. "That was a mistake. You will forgive me."

  A command, not a request. The man was insane.

  "You murdered my husband."

  Now he glared. "You belong to me. You gave birth to my child. You spent months in my bed. That man had no claim on you."

  "I love Eric. I will always love Eric."

  "He is dead. You will love me."

  "You can't command my heart like you would one of your thugs."

  Carlos took her hands, squeezed them between his. "Mi dulce, I forgive you for your betrayal. I survived, and my operation continues. You will not do it again. For years, I wanted nothing more than to make you pay for what you'd done. But now I realize... I want things to be as they were. I was never happier, I never felt more complete, than when you were by my side."

  A gunshot split the silence.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Vanessa stood in the doorway, power like she'd never felt coursing through her.

  A red stain spread across Carlos's back.

  Still kneeling, he turned, faced her. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in shock.

  The woman, Kelsey, had screamed, but the sound had died quickly. She started to scoot across the bed away from Carlos.

  "Don't move." Vanessa sounded as confident as she ever had. Felt that confident, too.

  Kelsey froze, lifted her hands.

  Vanessa stepped closer, kept the gun pointed at Carlos. His eyes were wide. His hands were pressed against his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers. The bullet must have gone through.

  His mind seemed to catch up with him. "Put that gun away."

  "You..." She laughed and sounded like a ludak, a crazy person, but she felt good. "I gave you everything. I was... I was..." She couldn't think of the word in English. "I was on your side. I was odan." The word came to her. "Loyal. Like a wife to a husband. Like Mama to Tata even when he sold me. And now I know you always were dreaming of her."

  Kelsey leaned further away, eyes wide.

  But Vanessa didn't care about her. Kelsey didn't matter. Vanessa didn't matter. None of them could matter as long as Carlos lived.

  "I am carrying your beba." With her free hand, she rubbed her belly, felt the warmth there. "And you want hers. She doesn't love you. She never cared for you. Always me, doing what you say, sleeping with you. And you think of her?"

  "Vanessa, mi dolce..." He reached toward her.

  But the words, mi dolce...

  The same thing he'd called Kelsey.

  He was a liar.

  She fired again.

  The bullet hit his chest this time, and Carlos slumped onto the concrete.

  Whether he breathed or not, she did not care. She did not belong to him any longer. She was her own woman now.

  She aimed the gun at Kelsey.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Kelsey lifted her hands higher. "Please, don't."

  The woman, Vanessa, Carlos had said, flicked her gaze to Carlos.

  Kelsey looked, too. Wished she hadn't. Carlos was twitching, struggling for breath. Blood seeped from the wound on his back. It pooled on the concrete from the second bullet wound.

  She forced her gaze back to Vanessa. "I'm a victim, just like you." Kelsey's voice was shaky. Eric was gone, but Daniel... She could see her son again. Be with him again. If only she could survive this. "I just wanted to be free of Carlos. You can understand that, right? I ran away."

  The woman still said nothing. Her eyes were focused, thinking hard.

  "I'm a victim," Kelsey said again. "Like you."

  Carlos's breath rattled. Stilled. Rattled again.

  "I am giving him an heir." Vanessa lifted her chin, scowled at Carlos. "I tried to prove to him that he needed me. Now I don't need him. I will take his money. I will have what he had. And I do not wish to fight you for it. My child will not be second to yours."

  "But you don't understand." Kelsey took a deep breath. She had to keep her words slow, steady, confident. "The child I gave birth to isn't Carlos's."

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "You are lying. He said the child was his."

  "I lied. If he'd known... You know how he is. I was pregnant, he would have killed me if he'd known the truth. He's jealous, passionate. I feared for my child, and I was trying to rescue my sister."

  Vanessa tilted her head to the side. "Whose child is it then?"

  She took a deep breath, spoke the truth, the words she'd never allowed herself to say. "He is my husband's son."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  He is my husband's son.

  The words stopped him.

  Eric leaned back against the house beside the open window. Daniel was his son?

  Could it be true?

  That kindhearted, beautiful boy...his son?

  Eric couldn't think about it now. He had to focus. To save Kelsey. He looked through the window again. He could see Kelsey just below him, but the other woman was out of sight.

  Eric slipped off Surfer Dude's red parka and the skullcap he'd found in the pocket and left them on the ground. The ruse had worked. He'd replied to the text Surfer Dude had received on his phone, then slipped into the other man's coat. Mateo—the older man Kelsey had ridden in with—had come to help dispose of Eric's body. Eric recognized him from the photos Garrison had shown them that day.

  Eric had caught him off guard. Mateo was unconscious, lying in the woods beside Surfer Dude's corpse. The police were on their way, but Eric couldn't wait for them.

  He had to deal with the woman, Vanessa.

  Killing Surfer Dude had been bad enough.

  But to kill a woman, a woman carrying a child?

  He didn't want to, but he would if he had to.

  He crept up the front porch steps, through the front door, and down the stairs.

  Both women were out of sight. He could only see the raised gun, his gun, which she'd taken off him earlier. It was aimed at his wife.

  Eric lifted the weapon he'd taken from Surfer Dude and crept closer. He needed a better vantage point.

&nbs
p; Kelsey kept the woman talking, kept her engaged.

  "It must have been worse for you," Kelsey said. "I was your age when I was taken, maybe older. How old were you?"

  The gun wavered. The hand was trembling. "I was ten."

  "Oh, honey." How could Kelsey direct that much compassion toward a woman aiming to kill her? "I cannot imagine the kind of life you've had. I remember what they did to us. The locked closets that were terrible, but at least in the closet, you were safe. Alone."

  "Da." A pause. "Yes. Safe when they left you alone, but also hungry and scared and desperate."

  "Those conflicting feelings that came when you heard the keys jingling outside the door, hoping they would free you, but knowing it would be worse when they did. For me, I heard the keys and worried for my baby sister. I could hear her screams, but I couldn't protect her. I could do nothing to save her."

  For a moment, the woman said nothing. But the gun lowered just a little.

  Eric stood just beyond the door. From here, he could see Otero's body. The man might've still been alive, but he wasn't moving. He could see the front edge of the bed, and in the other direction, the woman's raised arm.

  "It wasn't a closet for me," Vanessa said. "We were held in one big room, together. We had each other, and we held onto each other, because to not meant to freeze, da? When the men came, it meant a bed, blankets, food. We hoped to be chosen, because as terrible as it was with the men, at least we wouldn't starve."

  "Nobody had the right to treat us that way, Vanessa. We are worth more than that."

  The gun dipped a little lower. Maybe if Kelsey could get her to leave voluntarily...

  "You never have to feel like that again," Kelsey said. "What that man did to you..." Kelsey paused, and Eric imagined Kelsey pointing at Otero. "He deserved what he got. If you run, they won't catch you. You don't need to go to prison. You never need to fear him or people like him again. I've been free for over nine years. I made my own way. And I did it with Carlos looking for me. You... you can just walk away. You never again have to be treated like chattel."