She apologized to Jack during dinner. “I didn’t think,” she explained.
He rolled his eyes, as though it was a well-known fact.
“Everything has been so crazy the last eight months—moving to your apartment, the house, working.” She continued, treading carefully, “I’m kind of a mess lately. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you. I think I’ll go see Aunt Susan this weekend. It’ll clear my head.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “You’re leaving?”
“Just for a few days. I miss seeing Aunt Susan.” Katie brushed her hands across his shoulders. “I’ll come back better for it. You’ll see.” She gave him a come-and-get me-smile—anything to keep him off guard. She wasn’t coming back.
Jack swept her onto his lap. “Maybe I’ll come with you. It’ll be a little get-a-way for us.” He watched Katie intently.
“Sounds good, but we’re planning to do girl stuff—nails, shopping, catching up on gossip. You’d hate every minute of it.” She played her role to the hilt. “You and I will have our own reunion when I get home Sunday night.”
Jack knew she was lying and watched Katie over the next few days. She added more clothes to the trunk of her car when she thought he wasn’t looking. He scrounged through her purse, incensed to find cash, a copy of her resume, and the title to her car.
Jack stayed silent, making a few plans of his own.
Katie left work early on Friday, eager to get out of Savannah. She looked under the front and back bumper of her car, finally locating a GPS tracker, just like the internet had explained. Katie pulled the magnetic disk free and tossed it in the seat of the car, intending to throw it away halfway to Atlanta. She raced for the highway, eager to leave Jack behind.
When Katie pulled into the cul-de-sac with its matching cluster homes, she saw Jack’s car in Aunt Susan’s driveway. Panicked, she started to back out when Jack opened Susan’s door, waving cheerily. With no choice, Katie pulled in and parked.
“Surprise!” Jack smiled. “I figured I’d join you. We’ll all make a weekend of it!”
Katie sputtered a quick response.
Aunt Susan squeezed in beside Jack, grabbing Katie’s hands. “What the hell is going on with you, two?” She shot a questioning look at Katie, swiveled her head toward Jack, and shook her head in confusion. “Get in here, Katie-girl, and give me a hug.”
Jack joined the embrace, making eye contact with Katie over Susan’s head. He pulled back his jacket to show a hunting knife, sheathed on his belt—something she’d never seen before. His right hand stroked the blade, while his left pulled Aunt Susan close. “We’ll have to make this weekend extra special for Aunt Susan, won’t we, Katie?” Jack’s innuendo was clear, and Katie felt goosebumps break out on both arms. He caught Katie’s eye again. You do understand, right?
She bobbed her head once.
Later, Jack whispered threats to Katie while they lay on Aunt Susa’s pull-out couch. “I swear to God, Katie. I’ll do it.” He ran the tip of the knife between her breasts—a deadly caress that never broke the skin.” I never liked the bitch anyway. You want Aunt Susan to live a nice long life, don’t you?” The knife hovered just above Katie’s belly button.
Katie nodded, afraid to breathe.
“We’re never going to have this issue, again are we?” Jack pressed the tip of the knife and watched, fascinated, as a single drop of blood appeared.
Katie saw Jack’s face change from anger to lust and knew he wasn’t done meting out his punishment. Katie endured his love bites and bruising fingers for Aunt Susan’s sake.
Saturday had the threesome traipsing across Atlanta, shopping, going to the park, and having lunch. Jack showered Aunt Susan with attention.
Aunt Susan giggled at Jack’s compliments, “I didn’t realize you were such a charmer.”
Jack laughed, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. We’ll have to get to know one another better, won’t we?”
Susan laughed and turned to find Katie. Katie had stopped walking and turned pale.
When Jack also turned around, his arm affectionately draped across Susan’s shoulders, Katie gagged.
Aunt Susan hurried to Katie’s side. “Are you all right?”
Jack’s smile disappeared.
Katie shook her head as much at Aunt Susan as Jack. “Lunch didn’t sit well with me. I think I need to lie down.”
Back at the villa, Aunt Susan fussed over Katie, draping a cool washrag on her forehead, and feeding her stale, saltine crackers. “Poor baby. You never get sick.”
Jack sat a few feet away, watching Katie intently. “It doesn’t seem like Katie’s getting any better. I think we should go home.”
Katie felt nausea in her throat and tried to keep down a belch.
“Oh, no. The drive will make it worse,” Aunt Susan protested.
“What do you think, Katie?” Jack looked her in the eye. “Wouldn’t you rather be at home? It doesn’t seem fair to ruin Aunt Susan’s weekend, does it?”
“Jack’s right, Aunt Susan. I may be coming down with something more serious. I sure don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Susan looked at Katie, looked at Jack, and crinkled her forehead. “Is there something going on here?” Her face then lit with excitement. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“God, I hope not,” Jack and Katie said in unison.
At Aunt Susan’s look of concern, Jack smoothed the situation, “We’re not ready for a baby yet. If Katie has the flu, we need to be closer to home.” He patted Susan’s hand. “We’d hate for you to go down for the count.”
Katie gagged again.
“We’ll find a way to send Katie back here for a girl’s weekend real soon. You’d enjoy that, right?”
Susan agreed, and Jack even pretended to make a date.
Jack drove directly behind Katie the entire four-hour drive. He kept her on the phone, laying out the new rules, “You will go to and from work only. You will not carry cash.” On and on it went with Katie growing numb the longer he talked. He brought the knife to bed that night, placing it on their bedside table.
On Monday, Katie quit her daycare job to keep the peace and applied elsewhere. She found what Jack considered a more acceptable vocation as a home health aide with Comfort Keepers.
Jack took Katie to a fancy dinner to celebrate, toasting her new career. She soaked in the rare praise, praying this would work.
Although challenging, Katie loved her new job. Surprisingly, the more training she took—CPR, exercise therapy, massage--the better the pay, too.
Because her clients could be located anywhere in the city, Jack had to allow Katie more access to the car. They agreed she wouldn’t accept any patients who lived more than thirty miles from Forsyth Park. Jack also insisted on having the patient names and addresses on his phone. “Just in case,” he explained. But they both knew better.
In his mind, she’d be working with senior citizens who represented no risk. His assumption held true for more than two long, miserable years—Years in which he demanded more, gave less, and watched her every move.
Chapter 10
Katie packed her oversized tote, adding children’s books for her Alzheimer’s patient, Mr. Parker. Jack called out a reminder as he headed toward the door. “Don’t forget Vicki’s coming over tonight.”
“Fine.” Katie hated the sessions with the personal trainer—Vicki of the rock-hard abs, and enhanced boobs. The stupid woman came to the house once a week to put Katie through her paces. Katie had given up going to the gym a year before. It wasn’t worth Jack’s constant accusations of her flirting with the other men. Because image was vitally important to Jack, he needed Katie to look perfect too. So, he’d hired Vicki.
That night, Katie gnashed her teeth, determined not to complain while the She-Nazi made comments about Katie’s inefficiency. “Do another set of lunges. That was pathetic.”
Jack shared a conspirator’s wink with Vicki.
Afterward, Vicki sidled up
to Jack, rubbing against him and laughing too loud. He brushed a hand down Vicki’s arm, stalling near her breast. The air vibrated with their sexuality.
When Vicki left, Katie had had enough. “Why don’t you and Vicki run off together? She’s obviously what you want.”
He slapped her quick and hard. Usually careful to avoid harming Katie’s face, Jack’s lost his control, and she could feel her cheek swelling.
“You think I would align myself with such a woman?”
For some reason, the alignment reference made Katie think of tires, and she let out a small laugh. She regretted it at once and shifted backward as though that would make the sound disappear.
She babbled a quick excuse, “I’m tired. I don’t think I heard you right. What did you say?”
Jack grabbed Katie by her hair and pulled her into the downstairs bathroom. Shoving her against the vanity, he used his other hand to grab her left arm, slamming her hand against the mirror. “You see that ring?”
Scared, she nodded.
He held her pinned against the sink. “We’re together forever, Katie. Until death do us part.” Katie and Jack’s eyes locked in the mirror for several long seconds.
When she went to bed, the knife was on the nightstand again. It showed up from time to time, when Jack judged Katie to be misbehaving. Jack picked up the knife and sliced the strap on Katie’s nightshirt. “Still nice and sharp.” He ran his thumb over the blade; a drop of blood dropped on Katie’s shoulder. He licked it off, never taking his eyes off Katie.
The next morning, Katie considered calling in sick. It wouldn’t even be a lie since her sham of a life made her nauseous. If the patient were anyone else but Cassie, she would have made the call. Instead, she applied concealer, covering her bruised cheek, and headed to the kitchen.
Jack raised his eyebrows at the extra makeup but proceeded with their usual morning routine. “Coffee ready?” he asked while scrolling through the news. As he left for work, he leaned in for his customary kiss. “Let’s have a nice dinner together.”
Katie glanced at Jack, knowing precisely what he meant. You'll be here when I get home, and we won’t be talking about last night.
As Katie joined the thousands of commuters, trying to bypass
Atlanta on the I285-loop, she had time to think about how much her life had changed in the three months since meeting Cassie.
Katie’s boss, Cheyenne, had called in late June. “Are you feeling better?”
“I slept a lot at first, but I’m better.”
Katie had taken a week off following a miscarriage. She’d been elated to discover she was pregnant, hoping a baby would help their marriage. Instead, Jack drank more and screamed about finances. She’d started bleeding after a particularly bad night when Jack literally dragged her up the stairs to their bed. Katie mentally swiped away the memory.
Unaware of Katie’s thoughts, Cheyenne got to the point of the call, “Are you up to a new patient?”
“You usually assign. What’s the deal?”
“Well, this one may be more difficult.”
As the silence lengthened, Katie grew suspicious. “And…”
“She’s young, Katie,” Cheyenne paused, letting the words sink in. “She’s twenty-four. Since you’re just a couple of years older, we thought it may be a good fit.”
“What’s the catch?” Katie smiled. Cheyenne acted tough, but Katie knew better.
Cheyenne sighed. “It’s more difficult when they’re young, Katie. It’s harder to stay detached. This girl—Cassandra--she’s paralyzed from the waist down. Has been since she was sixteen. She was in a terrible accident and in a coma for more than six months. Her mother is the primary caregiver, and her father works from home, but the medical end of things is getting to be more than they can handle. Eight years have passed, and her organs are shutting down. There isn’t going to be a miracle. You understand?”
“Yes, but the poor girl needs a friend.”
Jack was less than pleased with the prospective new client, but he’d caught himself in a trap of his own making. Stretched thin by their mortgage and taxes, he’d recently asked if she could pick up extra hours.
Katie’s potential new gig promised her two days a week.
“How far is the house?” Jack asked, pointedly.
Katie had done the research. “It’s twenty-eight point four miles, just under the thirty miles you asked for.”
He looked skeptical. “We’ll see.”
The next morning, Katie entered the Morrison’s house wearing huge loopy earrings and a bright pink shirt. Seeing the young woman also dressed in pink, Katie pointed at their shirts. “Hey there, Cassandra. I see you got the memo about pink shirts, too?”
“Call me Cassie,” she’d said with a lopsided grin.
Alike in age and taste, their kindred spirits recognized one another--one coming to the end of her physical life, the other slowly dying inside. Katie followed instinct and hugged Cassie. “I’m so glad to meet you.” She was unfazed by Cassie’s wheelchair, steroid-bloated body, or colostomy bag. Cassie beamed and hugged Katie back with surprising strength.
Cassie’s parents, Bob and Julie Morrison, squeezed one another’s hands. Julie had tears threatening; all her fears for her daughter’s last days were so close to the surface, they were a tangible presence in the room. Bob draped a beefy arm across his wife’s shoulder and planted a kiss on her forehead. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Katie heard him and shot them a reassuring wink.
Despite Cheyenne’s continual words of caution, Katie latched onto Cassie with fierce loyalty. As the months passed, the two women grew inseparable and developed a routine.
“What’s in your bag of tricks today?” Cassie always asked.
Katie, in turn, would dump out the contents of her tote. Gossip magazines, newspaper clippings, and lotions tumbled onto Cassie’s bed. Katie would pluck something from the pile, tell a corny joke, and start their session. They laughed and talked as though they’d been lifelong friends.
So, when Katie walked into Cassie’s room, following the confrontation with Jack, Cassie zeroed in on Katie’s camouflaged face. “Oh, my God! What did you do?”
Katie made a lame excuse, “Workout last night.”
“Vicki?” Cassie laughed and put her hands out in front of her breasts, remembering some of Katie’s unflattering descriptions of the personal trainer.
“Yep. That would be the one.”
Cassie frowned at Katie’s short reply.
Katie pretended not to notice and told a joke instead, “You know why the gym closed down? It wasn’t working out.”
Cassie rolled her eyes and set her suspicions aside, needing time to think.
Katie spent three hours with Cassie, babbling and taking Cassie through a series of exercises to keep her leg and foot muscles from atrophying. A blood clot would be a death sentence. Katie turned Cassie from side to side, checking for unusual bruises, cleaning the colostomy site, and massaging her back. Cassie lay still, and Katie assumed she was asleep until Cassie blurted out, “You know what I regret?”
Katie’s hands stilled. Cassie rarely grew melancholy. Although she didn’t want to, Katie let the conversation unfold. “What do you regret?”
“I regret not doing more after the accident.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. You had to learn how to cope with a whole new life.”
“I don’t mean that stuff. I was a cheerleader--a gymnast. I should have entered those Special Olympics, or coached. I was a good student. I should have tutored and made a difference. I’ve spent the last eight years concentrating on me.”
“You did the best you could.”
“I hope so,” Cassie replied as she squeezed Katie’s hand. “Don’t get to the end and wish you’d done it differently. No regrets, Katie.”
Cassie made direct eye contact, “You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because life is like toilet paper,” Cassie paused dramatically. “
No matter how long it seems, it always ends at the wrong time.”
Katie’s mouth fell open at the unexpected punchline.
“You’re not the only one who can tell a joke,” Cassie quipped.
As she left for the day, Katie’s mood was remarkably better. Wanting to keep it going, she dialed Aunt Susan.
Recognizing the number, Susan answered with enthusiasm. “Katie-girl! How are you?”
“Hi!” Katie was already smiling. “I’m doing good. I’m leaving Cassie’s and have time to catch up on the drive.” Traffic was already backing-up, and Katie turned off the AC and rolled down the window. The two women launched into a non-stop conversation about anything that came to mind: the weather, books, music, politics. Katie even repeated Cassie’s earlier joke. A half-hour passed quickly. “Whew,” Katie let out a breath. “I’m almost home, so I’ve got to let you go.”
“Great talking to you, honey. Tell Jack I say hello.”
Katie snorted, “Yeah, right.”
“What? You know how much I love that man.” Aunt Susan gestured on her end, sending her always present, multiple bracelets jangling.
Katie smiled at the familiar sound—a long-distance hug from her aunt. “Here’s my turn-off. I’ll call you next week. Love you!”
Katie had almost forgotten the night before. Pulling into their driveway, her heart sank. Jack was home early and waiting by the door. She greeted him and went along with the game in which they both pretended their world was perfect.
“So, how’s Aunt Susan?” Jack asked, proof he was still watching Katie’s every move.
“She’s doing great,” Katie answered. There was no point in acting surprised.
“You are going to take a shower, right?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You never know what those people may have on them.” He shivered as though Alzheimer’s or paralysis were contagious.
Katie dashed up the stairs, hoping Jack wouldn’t be behind her, but instinctively knowing better. He considered it his right to watch her shower. If she opted for a bath, he would sit on the edge, watching her, or pouring water over her, or soaping her.
There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller Page 5