Anyone but Him

by Theresa Linden

  Twisting to glance at Candice and Roland, who both stood by the special equipment cabinet, I lowered my voice. “Look, Candice won’t allow Roland to go, so it’s got to be you.”

  A chuckle came from behind me. I turned to see Mitch roll his chair back and mumble something to himself.

  Jaw jutting, Sean gave Mitch a threatening glare.

  I waited until Sean returned his leering gaze to me. “Please, Sean, I don’t want to do this alone.” Jarret hated me going to that place but, despite what Jarret thought, I hated it too. I couldn’t go alone.

  “Why don’t you tell her the reason you won’t go, Sean?” Mitch said, grinning. “Tell her who called you this morning.”

  “No one called me.” Sean shook his crimson face and walked backwards, eyes on me, toward his desk.

  “Wait. What?” I raced to him and grabbed his arm, anger rising inside. “Jarret called you? You’re kidding.” Didn’t he trust me at all?

  “No, I’ve just got stuff to do.” He twisted his arm from me, sat at his desk, and flipped open a file. “Everybody thinks I don’t work around here. I work.”

  “Hey, Caitlyn, you need someone to go?” Mitch stood and tucked in the front of his polo shirt. “I’ll go.”

  “Victor can go.” Candice marched from the special equipment cabinet to a desk in the back of the room.

  Mixed feelings of relief and discomfort passed through me. With his odd personality, Mitch seemed like an entirely unlikely candidate, but Victor looked old enough to be my father. But if that’s how Candice wanted it...

  I stood at the special equipment cabinet, checking out recording devices, when Victor came up beside me. We exchanged polite nods. He remained silent for a moment, towering over me, making my mouth dry, and provoking questions in my mind. Did he shave his head or had he lost his hair? Did he wear the goatee to appear tough and unapproachable? How did the tie fit into his image?

  “I’ll have you know, I’m against this,” he said, out of the blue.

  “Oh, sorry.” My temperature spiked under his hard eyes. “I’d wanted Roland to accompany me, but he’s not allowed, and then Sean—”

  “We’re not just going up against A-Z Women’s Choice Clinic.” He spoke low, as if not wanting anyone to overhear. “We’re going up against a giant. We’re going against the whole industry, the culture, for that matter. We’ll never win.”

  “But we’re just the investigators for a case.” Fidgeting with the recording device I thought I should use, I tried to understand the intensity of the anger he conveyed. “We’re not the lawyers. We don’t have to win. We just have to get the facts.”

  He stepped closer and switched the recording device in my hand for a smaller one. “As investigators, we’re part of the team going against them. And abortion is big business. They don’t take to challenges and threats nicely, always twist things around, get you on something. You’re aware of the varying laws and how the age of consent is different in every state?” He cocked a brow. “Arizona’s got some of the toughest laws with the age of consent at eighteen. Here it’s sixteen. And the parental consent laws differ from state to state, too. Some states don’t even have parental consent laws...”

  Five minutes later, considering Victor’s thoughts, I rolled my chair to Sean’s desk and pleaded with him one last time.

  With a great sigh, he flopped back in his chair and slapped his forehead. “Oh, all right. I’ll do it. And I guess I can drive this time.”

  Once Candice agreed to Sean going, Victor strode to the door with purpose, then he stopped and motioned me over. He pulled me out to where only Sherlock Holmes could witness and said, “You’re trying to piece Friday together, right? There’s something you ought to know.”

  “Okay.” Curiosity vied with discomfort.

  He shot a beady-eyed glance at the door to the office. “You did not leave work at five last Friday and neither did Sean.”

  “I thought I had an appointment.”

  “Check the time of that appointment. I drove by around six o’clock and you and Sean were both here.” He cocked a brow again. “Just you and Sean.”

  “Oh. Sean never told me that.” I tried to remember what Sean had said, wondering if this new revelation could sync with it.

  Victor rubbed his goatee and squinted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Sean can be a bit obsessive.”

  I smiled. “I’ve noticed. He seems to love the whole detective thing and all the little gadgets that go with it. I have a friend like him...” My friend Peter popped into my mind, and his obsession with electronics. “...who likes electronic kits and makes his own—”

  “Caitlyn.” A concerned, fatherly look came over him. “Sean has a bad crush on you.”

  Heat rushing to my face, I shook my head. “What? Sean? I’m sure he doesn’t.” Of course, Mitch gave the impression he thought so too. But maybe Sean had one of those flirty personalities. “I think Sean’s just a bit—”

  “He does, believe me. I’ve confronted him, but a lot of good that’s done. I’m not saying you returned those feelings or that you were in any kind of clandestine relationship. I’m sure you’re deeply in love with your husband. I don’t even know if you knew. But I do know you were upset with Sean that Friday, for whatever reason. You should talk to him and find out why. I’m telling you, Friday at six o’clock, both of your cars were parked outside the office.”

  The conversation played over and over in my mind all the way to A-Z Women’s Choice Clinic. Had we talked about that kiss again or something else? And why had Victor driven by the office around six? I wanted to question Sean but decided to wait until after the appointment.

  As we stepped inside the clinic, Sean grabbed my hand and rubbed my fingers, stopping at my wedding rings, convincing me of every word Victor had said. But then Sean whispered in my ear, “Get your wedding bands off, woman. You’re only fifteen.”

  I barely managed to twist them from my finger before a woman greeted us in the waiting room. We took seats to wait for the appointment, and I dropped the rings into my purse, which reminded me—

  With furtive glances at the receptionist, I turned the micro-video camera on and checked that the lens stuck out the hole in the side of the purse. A few minutes later, Emily called us back.

  “I’m Emily, and I am sorry to keep you waiting, dear.” Emily was a Yankee. Tall and thin with dark spiky hair, dressed in a sleeveless black turtleneck, knee-length skirt, and heels, she could’ve passed for a clothing-store manikin. Not particularly pretty or ugly, she had a blemish-free tan complexion, dangling earrings, bright red lipstick, and no other obvious make-up. Her pleasant but insincere smile added to her manikin-like appearance.

  “Please, come in.” Emily made a graceful sweeping motion with her long arm, inviting Sean and me into the consultation room. Black-framed, modern posters of girls looking beautiful, self-sufficient, and all-important hung on walls of dark gray. The pale gray carpet and sleek black lamps, artistically placed, gave the room a stylish, contemporary appearance.

  Another graceful gesture indicated that we should sit in the two black padded chairs on one side of a wide lipstick-red desk. Emily sauntered to the other side of the desk and eased herself into a high-backed, ergonomic chair.

  “And who is your friend?” She gave Sean a long look as if sizing him up.

  Sean and I glanced at each other as we took our seats. I placed my purse on the shiny red desk, making sure the camera pointed at Emily.

  “Um, my friend?” I tried to act like a nervous girl who had something to hide.

  “I’m Sean.” He reached a hand across the table. Emily accepted and shook it in true manikin style. Sean was supposed to use a fake name, so either he couldn’t come up with one, or he decided it didn’t matter. Still thinking over Victor’s warning, I had chosen the feminine version of his name: Vicky.

  “So, how old are you, Vicky?” Emily said to me.

  “I’m fifteen.” I decided to keep my answers as
short as possible and to hold a pout on my otherwise emotionless face, as Melinda had done, looking as much like a little girl’s Bratz doll as I could.

  “Is that gonna, you know, be a problem, ’cuz she ain’t eighteen?” Sean reclined and rested his arm on the back of my chair.

  Emily smiled and raised her chin, a condescending look in her eyes. “If we had better laws... I notice you, Vicky, don’t have the local accent. Where are you from?”

  The question made me gasp. I should’ve faked a Southern drawl!

  Sean took it in stride. “Y’all got better laws in Ohio?”

  “Ohio? No. So, are you Vicky’s boyfriend?”

  Sean shifted in his seat and gave me a wary glance. “Uh, yeah. Does my name have to be on anything? ’Cuz I’m, like, twenty-three and I think, uh—”

  “No, Sean, your name doesn’t need to be on anything. And I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your age or that you’re her boyfriend, for that matter. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a friend.”

  She flashed a smile, flipped open a folder, and slid a couple of papers across her shiny desk. “You’ll need to fill out a Medical History form. It’s really straightforward. Just a few questions about your health and birth control methods. Were you using birth control?”

  I maintained my Bratz doll pout and shook my head.

  Sean snickered. “Would we be here if she had?”

  “Maybe, Sean.” Emily did not look amused. “Many couples don’t use their birth control properly, and they end up pregnant anyway. So, I’d like to share that information with you. It will give you something to consider in the future. There are many options.” She slid a few more papers toward us.

  I bit back a reply. No matter how “properly” a person used birth control, a girl could still get pregnant. None of them was 100 percent effective.

  “Now, because of your age, Vicky, we’re going to need parental consent. It can be given by either parent.”

  Sean shook his head before she finished speaking. “No. That’s not gonna work.”

  “My parents would kill me,” I said without emotion.

  Emily pursed her lips. “You can request permission from a judge and avoid—”

  “No.” Sean leaned forward. “We can’t wait for that. And she can’t tell her parents. They can’t know about it. They can’t know about us. They’d kill her and me.” He gave me a sly grin, and I couldn’t help thinking he had Jarret on his mind. “Can’t we just take care of this quietly? I’ve got the money.”

  With eyebrows low over compassionate eyes, Emily slid another form across the table. “Why don’t you take this form home? There’s no need to make this difficult. If her parents can’t know, then they don’t have to know. But we need this form signed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  He looked at me and shook his head, his blue eyes conveying the picture of naivety. “I can’t ask either one of them to—”

  “I know.” She nodded slowly as if he should pick up on what she insinuated but didn’t want to say.

  “You mean we fill it out? What then? Do I sign her father’s name?”

  She gave another slow nod. “Now, I can’t tell you to do that. But if I get this form back with her mother’s or father’s signature and a phone number, that’s all I need.”

  He made a nervous laugh, sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, okay, I can take care of that.” He gave me a glance, but it wasn’t a nervous or relieved glance that fit with his acting role. It was more of a “we got her” look.

  I nodded back. We had our evidence. Just as the girls had said, the woman insinuated we could fill out the parental consent form ourselves. And she had overlooked Sean’s age, which would obviously make him guilty of statutory rape.

  Emily leaned back in her chair and smiled, appearing satisfied that Sean understood her. She turned her smile to me. “How far along are you, dear?”

  My pouty mouth suddenly trembled. Sorrow and disgust welled up inside me. This woman was perfectly at ease asking me how far along my unborn child was, all the while arranging to have it terminated. Unable to speak, I covered my trembling mouth.

  It’s okay, baby, you really are safe with me, I communicated the thought to my unborn child. I’d never let any harm come to you.

  Sean grabbed and squeezed my hand. I turned away from the woman I now despised and pressed my face to Sean’s shoulder. He stroked my hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “We’ll make everything all right.”

  Pull yourself together. Don’t blow the cover. I took a deep breath, put my stone face back on, and sat up, returning my gaze to the woman with the sympathetic eyes. “I’m three months along.”

  Our mission complete, we gathered the forms and left the clinic.

  “We did it,” I said as Sean and I hiked to his car. The weight of misery I’d felt in the office lifted, leaving me with pride of accomplishment. Would this be enough for the case?

  As Sean opened the passenger-side car door for me, his eyes fixed on some distant point. “Shi-oot.”

  I glanced around the parking lot, the two rows of cars down the length of the building, but didn’t see whatever he saw. Sliding into the car, I closed the door.

  Sean dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed his door. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he said, “Shoot, shoot, son of a... son of a—” and slammed his palms against the steering wheel. “Son of a Mitch!”

  I suppressed a giggle. “What’s the matter, Sean?”

  “Ain’t that your husband over there?” He made a nod toward his window.

  I finally saw what he saw and my stomach flipped. Four cars down in the second row, Jarret sat in his charcoal black Dodge Ram, glaring at us.

  My heart jumped, landing with a sickening, guilty thud. He hadn’t wanted me to go here at all, but he probably hated seeing me with Sean. Could he have known about Sean’s feelings for me? Or about the kiss? “I guess I should see what he wants.” I reached for the door handle.

  Before I could open the door, Jarret tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he drove away.

  CHAPTER 22

  “JARRET’S GONNA KILL me.”

  “He’s not going to kill you.”

  Sean gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and stole glances in the side and rearview mirrors. “He’s gonna kill me. He called me this morning, you know, what Mitch said. That was true.” He dropped a hand from the steering wheel and tapped nervously on his thigh. “He called and threatened me, said I’d better not go anywhere with you today. He told me about the appointment before you did. I said I wouldn’t go.” He shook his head. “I’m sure he’s gonna kill me.”

  I huffed and stared out the window at a group of teens outside an Australian restaurant. Broken glass glittered on the sidewalk near them, a beautiful mess that no one noticed, that didn’t belong there. Strangely reminding me of my life.

  I turned back to Sean. “He’s not going to kill you. He didn’t like the way I dressed today, that’s all.”

  Without skipping a beat, he turned and stared openly at my bare legs. “Yeah, I can understand that. I’d be pretty jealous if you were my wife and looking like that.”

  I tugged my skirt down as far as possible and used my hands to cover the rest of my exposed thighs. “And he didn’t like me going to the abortion clinic, not even undercover.” A sickening feeling crept over me as I mentioned the place.

  Sean’s gaze slid to my legs as we barreled toward slowing traffic.

  “Watch the road, Sean.”

  He looked up in time to brake for a red light, slamming hard to avoid hitting the Hummer in front of us. It wouldn’t have damaged the Hummer, but his little Ford Focus would’ve suffered a bit.

  “I’ve been thinking, and...” He gave me an accusing glance. “...you must have told him.”

  “Told him what?”

  “You know.” He turned his baby blue eyes on me again and gave me a knowing look.

  “Abou
t the kiss? Hmm.” Maybe he did know. How long ago would I have told him? Right after it happened? Days later?

  The light turned green. He drove to the next intersection and turned right, leaving the crowded streets of strip malls, gas stations, and grocery stores for a farm road, long and straight, that cut over to Indian Fort.

  “Can we swing by my house? I’d like to change.” The sooner I could change out of the trashy outfit the better. It would put an end to Sean’s distraction and Jarret’s irritation, and I’d be a hundred times more comfortable.

  “Hell no, I’m not stopping at your house. What, are you trying to get me killed?” He turned to me with scrunched brows, looking offended. “Let him come to me. I am not taking it to him.”

  “Oh, Sean.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Stop being a baby. He’s not going to do anything to you. Besides, he won’t even be there. He’s probably back at work. I want to change into some real clothes and scrape the make-up off my face. I feel silly.”

  “Not taking any chances.”

  I slumped in the seat. I would have to take a break from work and go alone. Candice wouldn’t mind. She didn’t even expect me to be working on cases until my memory returned. If I could only figure out what happened Friday night. Maybe facing what happened would trigger my memory.

  Victor’s revelation came back to me. You did not leave work at five last Friday and neither did Sean... Sean has a crush on you.

  Sean stared straight ahead down the long, rolling farm road. The panic had faded from his expression. Maybe I shouldn’t ask him now, but what other chance would I have? When else would we be alone?

  “Sean, Victor said we stayed late Friday.” I tried to sound casual.

  He glanced. “What would he know? He was out on appointments all afternoon. He never came back to the office.”

  “Well, is it true or not?” His avoidance of a direct answer made it hard to keep an even tone.

  He gazed at the road as we climbed a slight hill, his face as placid as it had been before the question. A long moment later, he answered, “Yeah, it’s true.”