Forced Out

by Stephen Frey

  “You okay?” the trooper asked, helping Jack to his feet.

  “Yeah, I’m—”

  “Hey, Tom!” Harry shouted.

  “What you got?” the trooper yelled back, trotting over to where the EMTs were examining the baby.

  Jack took one more look at the burning wreck, then headed toward the baby, too. He wanted to get a close-up look at the still-sobbing little girl.

  “It’s Rosario,” Harry said to Biff. “Right?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Jack caught Biff’s sidelong glance, then a quick sign of recognition in his expression, too. But there wasn’t any friendly hello, like there had been from Harry.

  The trooper exhaled heavily. “So that was Julia Hernandez in there,” he said sadly.

  “Must have been.” Harry picked the baby up off the ground and held her to his chest. Her sobbing soon stopped. “So what do we do now?”

  “Take her to Social Services,” Biff said. “That’s all we can do.”

  “Then he’ll find her,” the trooper countered, glancing at Jack, then quickly away.

  As if he wished he hadn’t said what he said, Jack thought. “Who’ll find her?” he demanded, gazing at the little girl. She was adorable, probably no more than a year old. “What’s going on?” he asked when nobody answered, sensing that they were holding back. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Julia’s been calling 911 a lot in the past few weeks,” Harry finally spoke up. “Her husband’s been beating the hell out of her.” A steely expression came to Harry’s face as he stroked the baby’s small head.

  An expression that seemed out of place on Harry’s face. It was the first time Jack had seen anything but compassion there.

  “Rosario, too,” Harry added.

  Jack’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

  “Can you believe it?” The trooper’s expression turned mean, too. Like he wanted to kill the guy. “Beating a baby?”

  “Why didn’t you arrest him?” Jack asked, aware of more sirens in the distance. “Why didn’t she get a restraining order against him?”

  “She wouldn’t press charges,” the trooper explained. “She wouldn’t say that her husband was the one who’d beaten her when we got to the apartment. She was too afraid of losing him.”

  “Or getting killed once he got out if she did press charges,” Biff pointed out.

  The trooper nodded. “Yeah, right. Same old story.”

  “Well, if we don’t do something quick,” Harry spoke up, “Julia’s husband is gonna ultimately get Rosario if we just turn her over to Social Services.”

  The trooper glanced at the emergency lights heading toward them in the distance. “That’s probably right. Might take him a few days, but he’ll get her.”

  “Why in God’s name would this guy want to hurt his own daughter?” Jack asked, dumbfounded.

  Harry and Biff glanced at each other, then at the trooper.

  “Because it isn’t really his baby,” Harry explained. “Julia put his name on the birth certificate because they were together when Rosario was conceived, and he thought it was his kid when she was born. When the bastard found out it wasn’t really his a few weeks ago, he went ballistic. Decided to take it out on both of them.”

  Jack plucked a couple of blades of grass, then tossed them away and watched them flutter to the ground. How could someone do that to a baby? Even if he’d thought it was his at first but really it wasn’t. “Does Julia’s husband drive a Mustang?”

  The trooper nodded. “Yeah, a souped-up red one. Why?”

  So Julia’s husband had run her off the road and killed her. “She passed me a ways back,” Jack said sadly, gesturing into the darkness. In the direction he’d been coming from when the two cars had raced past. “She was going like a bat out of hell, and there was a Mustang right behind her, right on her tail. It was souped up. I’m not sure it was red, but it had stripes down the side. A fat one between two skinny ones, I think.”

  “That was him,” the trooper confirmed.

  “Well,” Jack continued, “when I came around the bend, the Mustang was hanging by the crash. When I got close, he took off. You can probably find his tire tracks in the ground around here somewhere.”

  “He ran her off the road, Tom,” Harry said to the trooper. “He killed her. And he’s gonna kill this baby if he gets his hands on her. He’s off his rocker. We gotta do something.”

  Jack looked at the little girl again—she was so beautiful—then down the road. The flashing lights were getting close.

  Harry reached out and grabbed Jack’s arm. “Hey, pal, wasn’t that your daughter with you at the baseball game the other night? I thought that was what she said when we first got there,” he continued when Jack didn’t answer right away. “Was it? Huh?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “She seemed real nice. Does she live here in Sarasota, too?”

  “Yeah. She lives with me. Why?”

  “Perfect.” Harry’s eyes flashed to Biff’s, then to the trooper’s. “You guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Absolutely,” the trooper agreed. “Against the book, but we can’t let the book get in the way. We can’t let that monster get Rosario. I’d never forgive myself.” He turned to Jack. “You gotta take this little girl and get her out of here, mister.”

  Jack couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “What?”

  “You saved her life a few minutes ago. Now you gotta do it again. Otherwise that first time will be wasted. You’ll have risked your life for nothing. You want that?”

  “No, but what you’re asking me to do is crazy. I can’t.”

  The trooper motioned toward the emergency vehicles that were closing in. “You got to. Otherwise this little girl doesn’t stand a chance,” he said, picking her up and putting her back in the car seat. “It’ll just be for a few days.”

  “But I don’t…” Jack’s voice trailed off. “Christ, I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of a little—”

  “You don’t have to,” Harry interrupted. “Your daughter’ll help you. She’s got a good heart. I could tell the other night.”

  Cheryl had a heart of gold, but how could Harry really have figured that out in such a short time?

  “Do it, mister,” Harry urged. “I don’t want to have to respond to some emergency call and find this little girl black and blue and bleeding. Or drowned in a bathtub. Please.”

  God, he’d never felt so old. So beaten up. “But I—”

  “It’ll be the best thing you ever do,” the trooper cut in. “The best.”

  He nodded somberly after a few moments. “Okay,” he whispered.

  The trooper patted him on the shoulder and smiled, then turned, grabbed the car seat and Rosario and dashed toward the Citation. The next wave of emergency vehicles pulled up just as the trooper slammed the door shut after securing the car seat in the back.

  “You’re a good man,” Harry said, patting Jack on the shoulder, too.

  Jack barely heard the words. The magnitude of what he’d just committed to was overwhelming. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Oh, Christ.” He’d almost forgotten how low he was on fuel.

  “What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

  He sure as hell didn’t want run out of gas with Rosario in the car. “Can I borrow five bucks for gas?”

  Harry nodded compassionately and reached for his wallet. “Sure, pal.”

  “What’s the matter?” Biff asked. “You poor or something?”

  Jack’s eyes dropped. He was feeling exhausted—and vulnerable. Feeling his sixty-plus years more than he ever had. “Yup. Just about broke.”

  22

  CHERYL PULLED HER Honda to a quick, squeaky stop in the narrow driveway behind the Citation, then reached into the backseat and grabbed Bobby’s bag. She was wearing some of his old stuff—an Oxford shirt with holes in both elbows as well as a pair of gray sweatpants. Her clothes were in the bag. The shirt and sweatpants were huge o
n her, made her look like a child. But she couldn’t walk through the door wearing the clothes she’d gone to Bobby’s in because she didn’t want Daddy seeing how sexy they were. She didn’t want him seeing the new red marks on her neck, either, so she was wearing the collar of Bobby’s shirt unbuttoned and up.

  Daddy was probably still in bed, but you could never be sure with him. Every once in a while he got up at the crack of dawn. She knew he was already suspicious of what was going on, and she was terrified that if he got another whiff of something bad, he’d steamroll right over to Bobby’s apartment and start World War III. She was convinced she’d never see Bobby after that—and losing him would tear her heart out. She’d realized that while she was driving home. Realized how much she cared about him—despite his dark side.

  She’d been adventurous last night while she was cooking. Worn an outfit she picked out yesterday at a high-end boutique near the office. A tank top that showed a lot of her full-C cleavage and a very short skirt. She’d felt positively naked, and predictably Bobby had loved it. Maybe too much. He’d been even more physical last night. Not abusive—not quite—but very aggressive. He’d pinned her to the mattress several times and slipped his fingers around her neck, whispering to her that he knew she liked it. She didn’t, she hated it, but she’d made a commitment to him and she was going to live with it. She wasn’t going to lose him. He might be her last chance. She was getting to that age where she had a better chance of being killed by a terrorist than marrying, she thought ruefully. And if you loved someone, really loved him completely, you accepted him completely. Meaning you accepted his desires—and his flaws—and gave him what he wanted. Really gave him what he wanted. No matter what it was. She wasn’t a girl who went halfway when she gave her heart.

  She was about to turn the key when a bright yellow service engine light caught her eye. She let her forehead fall gently to the steering wheel. She thought the engine had sounded funny on the way home, thought she’d heard a pinging noise she’d never noticed before. And the car had seemed to be jerking as it pulled away from red lights and stop signs. She’d hoped it was just her imagination, but obviously it wasn’t. She didn’t have money for a big repair job right now; she and Daddy were squeezed as it was. Money was always such a problem.

  Of course, for the next two weeks money wouldn’t be her biggest worry. Bobby hadn’t used protection last night, said he hated dealing with that. And she hadn’t been able to do anything about protecting herself because he’d forced himself on her and into her so strongly. He’d been irresponsible over and over—it seemed as if there was no limit to his energy—and she was right smack in the middle of that time of the month. A window that could produce a bad result. Then what would she do? She took a deep breath. More important, what would Bobby do? She turned the engine off, climbed out of the Honda, and headed up the cracked path toward the door. She couldn’t bear to face that question right now.

  When she opened the front door, she stopped and her mouth fell slowly open, amazed at the sight that met her tired eyes. Daddy was sitting in front of the TV in his lumpy old easy chair, and there seemed to be something wrapped in a pink blanket lying on his chest. Then she smiled. Another one of his pranks. It had to be. She knew him so well.

  “You almost had me going there for a second.” she called, laughing.

  Jack held a finger to his lips. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered. “I think she’s almost asleep.”

  “Oh, sure. Don’t try to fool—”

  At that moment Rosario opened her eyes and cooed.

  And Cheryl dropped the bag of clothes and raced across the room.

  Bobby opened his eyes slowly and stretched, awakening from a wonderful three-hour nap and an erotic dream. He’d kissed Cheryl good-bye this morning after giving her his shirt and sweatpants, then fallen into a deep sleep, completely satisfied by the long night of sex. Now he was refreshed and ready for more. He’d push her even harder tonight. See if she’d let him tie her up. Use some of that paraphernalia he had hidden in his closet. God, he couldn’t wait. He could tell she wasn’t enjoying it the way some women he’d been with actually had. But that made it even better. He liked that she didn’t want to do it, but was being submissive and giving in anyway.

  He grinned as he watched the ceiling fan rotate slowly. Life was good. Yesterday, the old codger up in Tampa had committed to a three-million-dollar order for his company’s line of high-tech, skintight workout suits as well as a couple of million dollars’ worth of weight training equipment. It had been the company’s biggest single order of the year. The old guy had been pissed off when the meeting started forty minutes late, but after the promise of World Series tickets, everything changed. People were so damn predictable. Hell, the way things had turned out, he’d gotten an extra million bucks in the order he wouldn’t have gotten without the tickets. So it had actually turned out better that he was late. And he’d gotten that last dip in Cheryl’s pond. Everything always seemed to work out for him. Seemed like it always had. He was just one of those lucky guys.

  His smile widened. His bosses in Los Angeles were ecstatic about the order, about how much product he was moving. Out of nowhere they were talking about a regional manager post—which would mean a big salary increase and an all-expenses-paid move to Atlanta. There’d even been a wink and a nod over the phone yesterday afternoon about him putting a few extra things on the move so he could suck more cash out of it. And the relocation wouldn’t happen for another month, so he still had a few weeks to play with Cheryl. Then, one day, he just wouldn’t be here anymore. Poof, gone. Result: another sobbing woman in his wake.

  He laughed aloud. It was so beautiful. He’d kiss her at the door after a long night of rough sex like there was nothing wrong. Promise her that they’d go to a nice dinner that night. Then send her on her way, move out, change his cell number, and disappear forever. He’d never told her the real name of the company he worked for. Never told her his real last name, where he was originally from, or anything else about himself she could use to track him down if she turned out to be one of those fatal-attraction psychos. It was just so much fun playing with a woman’s mind—and abusing her body. He never got tired of either one.

  Cheryl put Rosario carefully down on the makeshift bed they’d built on the bedroom floor—several blankets and a ring of pillows so the little girl couldn’t crawl too far when she woke up. It was as if Cheryl had suddenly gone to heaven, Jack realized, a sentimental smile creasing his face as he watched. She’d picked Rosario up off his chest when she’d gotten home and hadn’t put her down since. She’d even called in sick to work—something she never did—so she could stay home with the baby all day.

  He backed out of the doorway and headed to the kitchen as Cheryl pulled a blanket over Rosario’s tiny shoulders and kissed the little girl’s forehead.

  “She’s amazing,” Cheryl murmured, sitting in the chair across the kitchen table from him a few moments later. “It’s just so awful about her mother.”

  Jack hadn’t told Cheryl any of the gory details, just that Julia had died in a car accident. He hadn’t told her that he’d been the one to pull the baby out of the wreck, either. It wasn’t necessary. There was no need to pump himself up. He was already her hero. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Is it really only for a few days?” she asked.

  She seemed so disappointed. Like that was way too short a time. Like if it had been for good that would have been fine. Harry had been right on with his prediction. “That’s what the trooper said, Princess.”

  Cheryl pushed out her lower lip and pouted. “She’s so beautiful. I don’t know if I can let her go.”

  “Already you’re like that?”

  She shrugged. “What can I say?”

  “Ah.” He waved. Like it wouldn’t be a big deal for him to give Rosario back. He didn’t want to admit that he’d already fallen for the little girl, too. “You’re such a softie.”

  “I’m a woman, Daddy. What do
you expect?” She sighed. “I know it’s not practical. Most days neither one of us is here, so it wouldn’t work out. Still, I—”

  “We couldn’t afford having her around for long, either,” Jack interrupted. He hadn’t told her that as of yesterday he was going to be around a lot more during the day. Or that he had less than a dollar in his bank account. “Could we?”

  Cheryl sighed again and opened her checkbook. It was lying on the table in front of her. “Do you really want to know?”

  “No.” He hated dealing with money, always had. He’d always let Linda take care of that part of the household. She actually seemed to enjoy that chore. Figured. Hell, she’d probably hidden half the assets ahead of the divorce. “But I guess I should,” he admitted grudgingly. At least he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he could trust Cheryl.

  Cheryl tapped down the lines in the checkbook register with her finger, adding up expenses. “Here’s the snapshot,” she said when she was done. “In terms of savings, I’ve got about five hundred dollars in my account and you have”—she hesitated—“what, a couple of hundred?”

  Not after giving MJ his down payment. “About that.”

  “It’s not much, but at least it’s a little bit of a safety net.” She studied the register again. “I make forty thousand a year, which, after taxes, works out to almost twenty-seven hundred a month. You make almost sixteen hundred a month, which, other than FICA, you get almost tax-free. So, together, we’ve got about four thousand in cash a month to spend.” She counted up the cash outflows in her head one more time. “The mortgage is about a thousand a month, including property taxes and insurance. The cars cost us a ton with the monthly payments, insurance, and maintenance. Utilities aren’t too bad, but they still eat up a chunk. The food and miscellaneous column hits us pretty hard, and then there’s always that credit card payment. Still, we should save a couple of hundred a month.” She shook her head. “But it seems like there’s always something we don’t count on. Two months ago it was the roof. Last month it was the new refrigerator.”