False Security

by Angie Martin

  Surprised by his statement, Rachel turned her body to face him. Paul rarely mentioned his deceased wife. “You loved her a lot, didn’t you?”

  “It’s too bad you were so young when she died. I wish you could have known her better. She was the most wonderful woman in the world.” He swatted her arm with the back of his hand. “Next to you, of course.”

  Rachel allowed a smile at his compliment. “Did you ever want to find someone else?”

  “I often wondered what my life would have been like if she had lived, but from the moment I saw her, I never wanted anyone else besides her.”

  Another fairy tale, Rachel thought. Paul lived for one woman and one woman only, even if she was no longer alive. He would never stray from Maria as long as he breathed. Rachel wondered if Donovan felt the same way about her. Aloud she said, “People my age are out there falling in love, getting married, starting families.”

  “Do you want that?”

  When Rachel was eighteen and starting her relationship with Donovan, she would have answered yes to that question without doubt or hesitation. Even after the first several times he hit her, maybe even up until a few months ago, she still would have answered yes.

  She wanted to tell Paul she welcomed all of that with Donovan, but something held her back. She had spent many nights wondering if this was the way all relationships were. Thinking back on her parents, she never knew her dad to touch her mom except out of love. She wondered if her mom hid the bad parts of their marriage from Rachel, the way Rachel hid her bruises from Paul.

  Still, she thought Donovan loved her as much as she loved him, even though he hurt her sometimes. After each outburst, he always showed her how much he loved her, and he was always so sorry. He would tell her it wasn’t her fault, and he would never hurt her again.

  At first, she believed him. Now, she was simply confused. She lived her life bracing herself for his next attack, knowing it could come at any time. It didn’t matter whether he was angry with her, or if they had just spent hours in each other’s arms. Inevitably, he would hit her again.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she said. “I wonder if my life was supposed to turn out like this. If it was preordained I would live here on the estate forever and never have a normal life.”

  “Having what people out there call a normal life is impossible here, isn’t it?”

  “Could you imagine? ‘Sorry I can’t make it to dinner, honey, but I have to drive all the way to Sacramento and take out this target. Don’t wait up.’ I don’t think it would go over too well.”

  Paul laughed with her. “No, it wouldn’t.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Do you want to tell me what this is really about?”

  Her smile faded. What could she tell him? There were so many things she could say. She could tell him how the guilt from the jobs was destroying her. With every safe she opened, with every person she killed, she felt as if the devil himself had broken away another piece of her soul for his gnawing pleasure.

  She could tell him about Eric and how much she disliked him. How she avoided him as much as possible, and ignored the snide comments tossed her way if caught alone with him. At times his words were beyond crude, when he told her exactly why she would love spending time alone with him in his room. The looks he gave her, as if he stripped away her clothing every time he saw her, made her shudder with disgust and a bit of fear.

  After her accusations that he sabotaged her job, she couldn’t tell Donovan anything he said. Eric would deny it, and Donovan would assume she was trying to undermine Eric. Her aggravation with Eric had built to the point that she thought at any moment she could snap and either take her frustrations out on him or just plain kill him.

  She could tell Paul her relationship with Donovan didn’t resemble a single fairy tale her mother had told her. She wanted to get back to the way things used to be before the night he hit her in the library. She longed for the times when he would hold her in the early morning hours, or sneak kisses around the estate when they thought no one was watching. Back then, she didn’t jump at his slightest move.

  “Rachel?” Paul asked.

  She looked at Paul’s tired face. She wouldn’t tell him anything. She never did. Paul had enough on his mind without having to worry about her problems. They were so minor anyway: not being able to stomach her work, Eric’s jealous outbursts, Donovan’s tendencies toward violence. She could handle it.

  She opened her mouth to once again tell Paul that life was perfect. “I don’t think Donovan loves me,” she said.

  Paul wrapped his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. He brushed back her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Honey, he loves you in his own way, but he’s not good at showing it. In fact, he sucks pretty bad in that department. The question is, do you love him?”

  “I’m not even sure what that means anymore. I thought I did, but now I feel more like his mistress than anything else.” The uninvited words flowed without thought, spilling out from the dark place inside where she hid her fears from the rest of the world.

  Rachel lifted her head, her mouth twisted into a frown. “And sometimes I feel like a prisoner to this place. The only time I’m allowed to leave is for a job. I’m twenty-three years old and I don’t even know how to drive a car. I couldn’t leave on my own if I wanted to.” Rachel hesitated, and she drew a deep breath. “No one’s ever told me I can’t leave, but it’s unspoken, isn’t it? ‘Rachel doesn’t leave by herself.’ Why is that?”

  Paul appeared unfazed by her rant, as if he expected it. “You’re the only one who didn’t know the stakes when you came here. Every one of us came to the estate knowing what we were giving up and what was expected of us. We all had our own reasons for leaving that life behind.” He gestured toward the boundaries of the estate. He lowered his voice and looked at her. “You know how it is here, Rachel.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, the reality that she had always tried to avoid washing over her. She was predestined to spend her life here. She would never know the world outside of the estate.

  It was time for her to forget the fairy tales her mother told her. In real life, Cinderella never went to the ball; her hands were always too dirty from her work. And in real life, Prince Charming fell off his white horse and snapped his neck before he could rescue the princess.

  “You were a child when I brought you here,” Paul said. “You had no idea what it was like or what you were giving up. If you had known, would you have come here willingly?”

  Rachel thought about his question, but was afraid to respond. She didn’t want to admit she doubted everything she ever knew. Instead of answering him, she said, “You never told me why you came here. I remember you were a doctor and Aunt Maria died, but how did you meet Donovan?”

  “I met him because Maria died.” He paused for a long moment and stared off in front of him. “Do you remember when Maria and I used to take you to church?”

  Rachel searched the depths of her mind. She saw a vague image of a petite, dark-haired woman standing next to a much younger Paul, but no distinct memories came with the picture. “No, I don’t remember that,” she said.

  “I didn’t think so. You were only five when she died, and six when I left to come here. Maria and I attended church every Sunday. Even though we lived in Los Angeles at the time, we went to San Diego every few weeks for a visit and we took you to church with us. We were both active in our church. Maria was in the choir.”

  “You never told me she could sing,” Rachel said.

  A wistful smile crossed Paul’s face. “She had an angel’s voice, like God Himself sang through her. We taught Bible studies to the younger kids after church every Sunday. We even read the Bible and prayed together every night. I don’t suppose your dad ever took you to church after I left, did he?”

  “I went with a friend of mine a couple of times, but that was it. Mom and Dad never cared much about going to church.”

  “Our parents we
re religious, but your dad didn’t carry it with him into adulthood. Your dad was named after the apostle Luke and I was named after Paul. Do you know the Bible story about Paul?”

  “I think I’ve heard it before, but I can’t remember what it’s about.”

  “Then here’s a quick Sunday school lesson. There was this real mean guy named Saul who spent his time persecuting Christians in the early church. He’d round them up and jail them or take them off to be killed.

  “One day, when traveling on a road that led to Damascus, he saw this light from Heaven. Then Jesus spoke to him. He told Saul to stop persecuting Christians. The experience blinded Saul. After three days, he could see again, both physically and spiritually. He became one of the most famous Christians of all time and his name was changed to Paul. That’s the gist of the story, anyway.

  “Before Maria died, I worked at the hospital and Maria was getting her Master’s degree in psychology. We held off on having kids mainly because she wanted to finish college first, but we made up for it by spoiling you.”

  Rachel smiled at the thought. “You’re probably making that up since I don’t remember so well,” she said.

  “Trust me, your dad was always upset with all the presents we brought you on our visits, especially the ones that made lots of noise.” Paul’s smile faded. “One night, Maria walked out to her car from the campus library and this guy jumped her. He forced her out to a wooded area right by the library. Raped her and left her there. At some point during the struggle, he smashed her head against a rock. Her...”

  Paul abruptly stopped speaking and swallowed hard. Rachel placed a reassuring hand on his arm, and he continued the story. “Her brain swelled until there was no more room left. They did emergency surgery, but she had a seizure and went into a coma. Three months later, I had her removed from life support and she died. Being a doctor, I knew she wouldn’t survive, but I couldn’t let her go. So I kept her like that, and prayed for a miracle. She never regained consciousness.”

  All these years, Rachel never knew how Maria died, and now she understood why her parents had not told her.

  “Her rapist was caught two days after the attack,” Paul said. “He was seen on the security cameras that were in the library and around campus, so the police had an easy time tracking him down. He claimed he was so strung out on a cocaine-heroin speedball mixed with Jack Daniels that he didn’t know what he was doing.

  “The prosecutor charged him while Maria was still on life support, and he pled guilty to attempted murder. They dropped the rape charges in exchange for a plea bargain. He wasn’t charged with her murder because, out of purely selfish reasons, I left her on life support so long. Since it was his first offense, the judge gave him one year of rehab for his drug addiction followed by another couple of years in prison.” Fury doused Paul’s voice. “He raped my wife and left her to die, and they patted him on the back and told him it was okay because he was stoned.”

  Rachel brushed the tears off her cheeks. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he still blamed himself for the events that followed Maria’s death. He had no way of predicting that by holding out hope for her recovery, he also paved the way for her killer to get off easy. Rachel wanted to console him, but no words could take away the pain etched deep in his soul.

  “After the sentencing,” Paul said, “I went out to her grave. As I was leaving, this man approached me. I recognized him from being in the courtroom during the sentencing hearing, but I had no idea who he was. He introduced himself as Donovan King, and told me he wanted to talk about the criminal justice system. Of course I was full of opinions about justice, plus I was curious why he was so interested in the case, so I had a few drinks with him. Mind you, I didn’t drink back then, but after Maria’s death I did a lot of things I normally wouldn’t have.

  “After a few shots and lots of whisky, Donovan had my attention. He was only twenty-three at the time, but he was much like he is now: smart, knows what he’s doing, and confident as anything. He could charm a starving lion out of a meal if he wanted.”

  Rachel early on learned that side of Donovan. He had charmed her on her first day at the estate and hadn’t stopped since. The same charm drew her back into his arms no matter how many times she was on the receiving end of his temper.

  “Donovan told me about Graham Wilkes,” Paul said. “It turned out the guy who killed Maria was into Wilkes big time. He owed him more money than he could ever repay since he was going to be put away for a bit, so Wilkes wanted him dead to send a message. Donovan asked me if I’d like to do it, and if I’d like to come work for him as the head of his onsite security team, as well as provide onsite medical care when needed. In exchange, everything I could ever need or want would be taken care of for the rest of my life. I didn’t hesitate.”

  Paul shrugged. “I guess sometimes justice can only come at the end of loaded gun. At least that was my rationale back then. Your dad and I argued about my career change, so I left on bad terms. I remember though that I brought you this big book of fairy tales as kind of a going away present.”

  “I loved that book,” Rachel said. “Every time I read it, I thought of you and hoped you were coming back to visit soon.”

  “I think the hardest thing about the whole deal was leaving you, but what an offer.” He locked eyes with her. “You see, Rachel, Saul turned into Paul when Jesus appeared to him. I started out as Paul, and turned into Saul when the devil appeared to me in the form of Donovan King.”

  A chill coursed through her body as she considered his analogy. “If you could go back in time, would you still do it?” she asked.

  “Every time. But if I could go back, I never would have brought you here.”

  Rachel contemplated his words. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “I know I love Donovan, and I know he loves me. I just always thought there was more.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Paul had witnessed Rachel’s deterioration over the past four years, since the night of the failed job. It was like watching the slow decay of a live corpse, and he had done nothing to help her.

  Not anymore.

  He moved with purpose up the winding staircase, and made his way down the long, darkened hallway. Halfway down the hall, he opened the door to Donovan’s office without knocking.

  Donovan looked up, more with curiosity than surprise, his cellphone pressed to his ear. “Let me call you back,” he said into the receiver. After he set his phone down on the desk, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to talk,” Paul said.

  “This couldn’t wait?”

  “It’s already waited long enough.”

  Donovan motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk, but Paul waved his hand. “I’ll make it quick. Rachel’s questioning things.”

  Donovan leaned back in his chair. “What things?”

  “Like why she’s living in a prison. Why she doesn’t ever leave the estate unless she has a job.”

  “Paul, we talked about this before she came here.”

  “I know, and I understand why it was necessary back then, but she’s an adult now. I don’t think it’s a risk for her to leave as long as it’s controlled and kept to a minimum.”

  “You brought a child, a ten-year old girl to the estate. Business had to remain intact, without her disturbing it, so we trained her as an employee. If you recall, that was your solution to the problem, not mine.”

  “Yes, that was my idea,” Paul said. “So far it’s worked out just fine.”

  “I agree that it has worked, but she came here on the condition that she would not leave. It was way too risky and would raise questions. I couldn’t put our operation in jeopardy. I did the best I could given the circumstances, and I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else but you.”

  “And I appreciate that,” Paul said. “It was a difficult time for all of us, but I had the responsibility as her only living relative to care for her. I didn’t see any other way of handling
it. I couldn’t leave her to the system, jumping around from foster home to foster home with no promise of stability. People don’t adopt 10-year olds, they just don’t.”

  “Which is why I agreed to your suggestion to bring her here, but only with those conditions,” Donovan said.

  “But now she’s grown. Prior to her arrival, we never discussed what would happen when she became an adult.”

  “That’s true and I understand your concern, but I don’t know how good of an idea it is to let her start leaving after so long. At least not yet.”

  Paul knew he was getting through. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Rachel loves you. She’s dependent on you and looks to you for everything she needs. She trusts you, and she’s given her entire life to you.” Paul lowered his voice. “She’s human, Donovan. Flesh and bone.”

  “I know.”

  “She has emotions and dreams that can be crushed.”

  Donovan remained silent, his eyes fixed on the desk.

  Paul’s vision blurred with tears and his body trembled with his words. “She bleeds, too.”

  “I know that!”

  After a tense moment, Donovan rose. Paul took a step back, once again struck by Donovan’s powerful presence. If the man walked into a room full of marines, they would all stand up a little straighter in the shadow of his authoritative stature.

  Yet Paul knew there were many facets to Donovan King outside of his public one. Over the years, he had witnessed the different personalities of Donovan, all coming from the same shell, all as varied as the shapes of snowflakes.

  Donovan braced his hands on the edge of his desk, his face rigid. Without looking up, he asked, “What is it that you want me to do?”

  Paul flinched. This was the first time he had seen Donovan humbled to the point of asking another for direction. A surge of hope rushed into Paul’s heart. “Senator Cal Robbins is hosting a dinner at his home next week. I think you should take Rachel.”

  “I’m leaving for Seattle that afternoon.”