by L. G. Davis
Ignoring him, I push Clark toward the front door, standing between him and Cole. “Go to the car, Clark. It’s open.”
“But, mom, grandpa…”
“I said go. Now. Run.” My voice is firmer than he has ever heard it, so he opens the door and runs out, still holding my phone.
When Cole takes a step toward me, I grab a standing lamp from nearby and raise it above my head. “Don’t you dare come near me or my son.”
I wait until the car door slams.
“You never learn, do you?” Cole drawls. “You can’t win this game. I’m the cat and you’re the mouse. Go ahead and walk out that door. See how far you’ll get.” He comes even closer.
I don’t waste time. I swing the lamp as hard as I can. It collides with his body, and he loses his balance and topples into the TV, sending it crashing to the floor, with him following right after it.
I’m about to run out of the room when he starts laughing. He’s still on the floor, but even in a weakened position, he has a hold on me.
“I know you planned to kill Brett,” he says. “I also knew you were too weak to get the job done.”
“So, you stepped in to finish the job?” There’s no point in denying anything. Brett probably told Cole that he asked me to help him die.
“Yes, I was involved in his death. Brett deserved to go. He was a coward.”
I need to go to the cops, but not the ones in this town. He probably already got to some of them. There are good cops in other towns. Not all of them are crooked. At least I hope they aren’t.
“Go to hell.” I grab the door again and step out.
“I won’t let you take my son from me,” he shouts. His words slam against my heart, and I almost stumble with shock, but I keep moving until I’m behind the wheel.
The moment I start the car, he appears in the doorway and runs to the taxi I saw sitting in the parking lot earlier.
36
It can’t be true.
Cole is not Clark’s father. I never had a DNA test done because a few days after the rape, I had my period. How much more confirmation could I need?
He lied. He knew I was slipping out of his grasp, so he threw a blow where he knew it would hurt the most.
“You’re driving too fast, Mommy,” Clark says for the fourth time.
I peer into the rearview mirror and tension melts from my shoulders.
Not a single car is behind us. We lost him.
Cole’s taxi was behind us for at least half an hour, not speeding, just torturing me. It’s what he does best.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I take a quick glance at Clark and I shudder inwardly.
He does resemble Cole. I’d never noticed how much. He has the same squinting, slate-gray eyes and slightly upturned nose.
What if?
It’s not possible.
Clark is Brett’s son, not Cole’s. It’s no surprise that he resembles Cole. Even if I wish they weren’t related, they are.
The cramps of fear in my belly refuse to give me relief, and the little voice inside my head continues to ask, ‘what if?’
Something inside me is unfurling to life, forcing its way to the surface, a possibility that refuses to be stifled.
The day I gave birth to Clark, I did wonder if I should do a DNA test to be sure. My online research at the time had revealed that on rare occasions, there are women who claimed to have had their periods while pregnant.
For weeks I was tempted to do the test, but I eventually scrapped the thought. If it turned out that Clark was Cole’s son, it would have eaten me alive and destroyed my marriage. I would have been forced to tell Brett what his father did to me. He would never have recovered from that betrayal. I would have lost him, and Cole would have won the war against our relationship.
“Mommy, why are you angry with grandpa?” The question makes me feel like someone has shoved me into a brick wall.
What do I tell Clark? I can’t possibly allow him to continue thinking Cole is a saint. I have worked so hard to protect him from the truth. But right now, I can’t find the strength. Seeing Cole and almost losing Clark have drained me.
“I’m sorry, baby, but your grandfather is not a good person. Promise me that you will not go anywhere with him again. He did some bad things.”
“What did he do? Did he hurt you?”
You have no idea. You have no idea how much he hurt me. What he did to me I cannot put into words.
That’s what I want to tell him, but I can’t. That part of the truth he cannot know, at least not yet. I don’t want to shatter his innocence completely. But eventually, I might not have a choice. Cole’s crimes have become a national story. Clark is bound to see him on the news, or some random person might even tell him.
“He wants to hurt us.” It’s the truth. Even if Cole might not want to hurt Clark physically, he could destroy him emotionally, as he did to Brett. Cole would mold him into the person he wants him to be, his puppet, his weapon. He would also use him as a tool to make himself feel powerful. He would pulverize my son’s confidence in order to build his own.
“But he’s nice,” Clark says. “I miss him.”
“No, he’s not, Clark. He’s not a nice person,” I say between clenched teeth. “I need you to understand that. I need you to trust Mommy right now. And we need to get away from him.”
“Is that why he didn’t visit us in the cabin?”
“Yes.” I tighten my hands around the steering wheel, speeding up. “We can’t let him come near us again.”
A car has appeared behind us, its headlights blinking on and off. A warning?
My fear starts pushing me to the edge of my sanity again, but then the car turns into another road. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and release the breath I’d been holding.
How long until he shows up again? What if he’s ahead of us, waiting in the darkness? But he doesn’t know where we are headed. Neither do I. My plan so far has been to get as far away from him as possible, but I have no destination in mind.
It’s only a few minutes later that I notice we are actually twenty minutes from Willow Creek. It feels like I’m going home. I did feel safe there for a while. That’s where I have a friend.
I definitely need one at this moment. I’m too tired to continue doing it alone.
I’m scared that Cole might hurt Tasha if she helps me, but I need her. I need to at least speak to her. She did promise that she will be there for me. It’s time to cash in the promise.
I pick up the phone and pull in a breath, then I dial. When she picks up, I’m unable to say the words on my mind because my throat is closing up with emotion.
“Zoe,” she says. “Honey, is that you?”
“I need your help, Tasha,” I blurt out. “Please, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.”
I should probably go to the police, but what if Cole suspects that’s what I will do and waits for me there? I have no idea how many more police officers he has corrupted. Maybe the reason he hasn’t been found is that he has a team of police officers on his payroll.
I shudder when I think of Roland, the police officer, how he stalked me without my knowledge. He was watching me from the bushes all along.
My head hurts too much to think about what to do next. I need someone else to think for me, to tell me what to do.
“Where are you?” Tasha asks, her voice high-pitched with worry. “Are you okay?”
“No.” My voice is smothered by tears. “I’m actually not okay. I’m in danger.”
“Come to our house. Wherever you are, come here, okay?”
“I can’t.” I want to. I want to find a safe place to hide, but if Cole is after me, I would lead him straight to the people who are trying to help me. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. “He’s after me. If I come to you, you will be in danger, too.”
I feel foolish. What was the point of calling Tasha if I’m refusing her help?
I guess calling her was to ensu
re that I’m not all alone in this.
But any minute now, I’ll run out of gas and we’ll be stranded.
“Who is after you?” she asks.
“My...my father-in-law. He’s dangerous.” I glance at Clark. He’s on the verge of falling asleep. “I can’t say more now.”
Tasha is quiet. Perhaps she’s wondering whether I’m really worth all the trouble or if she should give up.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you. Then you can tell me everything.”
“I’m headed to Willow Creek,” I say.
“Perfect. Let’s meet at a crowded place somewhere.”
“Where?” I don’t know what place in Willow Creek would be crowded late at night.
“Come to my brother’s club, The Night Owl. Ask for Samuel. I’ll meet you there. How far away are you?”
“We should arrive in about fifteen or so minutes.”
“I’m on my way.”
Tasha’s right. It would be best to meet in a crowded place. Cole would think twice before showing up there, especially since he’s all over the news.
As for me, I may be wanted by the cops, but I look different now. However, it will be strange for me to walk into a club with a small child, but if that’s the only place we will be safe, we have to do it.
I need to trust Tasha because I can’t trust myself at the moment, not after I almost lost my son. After being careful for so long, I’m now making too many mistakes that could lead to me ending up in prison or worse.
If Cole ever finds me again, there’s no doubt in my mind that he will kill me. I know too much about what he did. At the end of all of this, only one of us will be left standing.
37
People are spilling in and out of The Night Owl. It makes me feel even more confident that it’s the perfect place to meet with Tasha.
I slow down first, observing the place, making sure that Cole is not among the people gathered outside the entrance. But then, if he were, he would be smart enough to camouflage himself, of course.
I ease my anxiety with the thought that he won’t be able to do anything to me without someone stepping up or calling the cops. He will not risk being identified.
Instead of parking close to the club, I find a spot a few blocks away, close to a hotel. There’s a chance that Cole will think I’m inside the hotel instead of the night club.
It was best for me not to go to the cops, where I could risk coming into contact with Roland.
When Clark opens his eyes, he’s disoriented for a moment. I feel terrible for waking him.
“Where are we?” he asks, looking out the window.
“We’re going to see Tasha. Would you like that? We miss her, don’t we?”
His face brightens up, but he only nods with a smile. Exhaustion is written all over his face. I dream of a day when we are settled, and he can rest without interruption.
“Sweetheart, listen to Mommy very carefully.” I reach for his hand. “I need you to be a good boy, okay? If you see grandpa, don’t go to him. Remember what I said to you?”
He nods. “He’s not a nice man. He wants to hurt us.”
I can tell he wants to ask more questions but doesn’t know the right ones or how to phrase them.
“Are we going to Lemon?” he asks.
“No, we’re not.” I help him out of his car seat. “Tasha wants us to meet at another place.”
“What will grandpa do if he finds us?”
“He won’t,” I say with determination.
Clark doesn’t ask any more questions. In silence, I pull his baseball cap over his head and put mine on as well. Then we hurry hand in hand down the street. I glance over my shoulder every few seconds and peer into the windows of every car that passes.
Just because I don’t see him doesn’t mean he’s not near.
We make it to the club without anything suspicious happening. The clubbers milling around the entrance glance at me with suspicion as they puff their cigarettes.
It’s obvious they’re judging me. What kind of mother would bring a child to a club when he should be in bed fast asleep?
The bouncer is a boulder of a man with half his head shaved and the other adorned by spiky hair. He’s wearing a tight T-shirt, with the word ‘Bouncer’ across the front.
The way he’s towering over me reminds me of Cole. They’re both intimidating, but in different ways.
“Invitation only tonight.” He throws Clark a look. “And no kids allowed.”
I pull Clark closer to me. His little body is trembling as he buries his face into my side.
“We were invited to come here,” I say.
Mr. Bouncer folds his arms across his chest. “Your name?”
“Zoe... Zoe is my name.” Now that the past has caught up with me, saying my name is Zoe makes my stomach queasy. After this is all over, I’m not sure whether I will go back to my old name or keep this one. “Samuel is my friend’s brother. She told us to come here.”
The bouncer’s face relaxes, and he places a hand on top of Clark’s head. “I was just making sure. Samuel is expecting you. Go up to the bar.” He steps aside and we make our way through the throng of people.
Clark is holding my hand with one hand and covering his ear with the other. The rock music is so loud, I feel my body vibrate. I can’t even imagine how it must be for him.
The bartender leans across the counter, his arms folded on the surface. “What can I get you?” he shouts over the noise.
“We were told to come here. Samuel is expecting us.”
“I’ll get him.” He looks down at Clark, who has just hopped up onto a high stool. “Sorry, he needs to get down from there. It’s the law.” The man disappears, and a woman with a straight ponytail immediately replaces him behind the bar as Clark hops back down again.
She fills a glass with orange juice and a straw and hands it to me. “For the little guy,” she nods toward Clark. “On the house.” She winks at me and I thank her.
Clark drinks the juice gratefully. He must be hungry as well. I’ll have to find a way to get him something to eat.
Looking around me, I’m glad that most of the guests are dressed appropriately and I won’t have to worry about shielding Clark.
Only a few people are dancing. The rest are at the bar or sitting on red leather couches on one side of the dance floor.
Samuel, a man with short dreadlocks and dressed in a suit, finally comes to meet us, and like Tasha, he seems to be very friendly.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” He shakes my hand. “Come with me. Let’s get the boy out of this loud place.”
As we follow him down a carpeted corridor, I’m glad he’s not wasting time by asking questions.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly uneasy. I know Tasha, but her brother is still a stranger to me.
“I was told to keep you safe. That’s what I’m doing.” He leads us down a flight of stairs to a wine cellar.
As soon as the heavy door at the top of the stairs shuts, the noise dies. It’s so quiet in the basement that I can hear my own heart thudding.
“Tasha said you needed a safe place. This is it. Make yourselves at home. She said she’d be here in about ten minutes.”
It’s a large wine cellar that also serves as an office. A wooden desk is piled high with papers and folders. The entire room smells of thick sandalwood and bergamot cologne.
Samuel doesn’t ask me any questions. Instead he calls for someone to bring us more drinks and a cheeseburger for Clark.
We sit down on battered leather chairs opposite the dusty wine racks. “Thank you.” I’m moved by the help I’m getting from a stranger.
“That’s all right. Tasha mentioned you’re in danger.”
“Um...yeah. We–”
“You don’t have to explain. All I’m going to say is that you picked the right person to help you out. She said you’re a good friend of hers.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “Yes, yes, I am.�
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“Then anyone who is Tasha’s friend is my friend. So, whatever help you need, I’m here. I’m going upstairs for a while to see if she’s arrived. You stay here and don’t come up under any circumstances. The key is in the lock. Lock the door if it makes you feel safer.”
As soon as he leaves, that’s exactly what I do. Then I sit down and watch Clark eating his burger like he hasn’t eaten in days.
Only about five minutes after Samuel leaves, someone knocks on the door. I’m afraid to open it, afraid it might be Cole, but Tasha calls my name from the other side.
The first thing she does when I open the door is gather me into her arms.
“Thank God you’re okay.” She pulls me closer.
I hold on to her as if for dear life. “Thank you so much for everything, Tasha.”
I only hope she won’t regret helping me after she discovers who I really am, and who I’m running from.
From over her shoulder, Samuel gives me a nod and merges with his guests, leaving us alone to talk.
It’s time for the truth to come out. If Tasha is going to help me, I need to be honest with her about everything.
I start from the very beginning. I tell her how Cole raped me, how I married his son, how Brett was diagnosed with cancer and begged me to end his life, and everything that happened after.
“Please tell me you really didn’t kill your husband,” she says after a long silence, moving closer so Clark wouldn’t hear our conversation. He’s wearing headphones and watching cartoons on Tasha’s phone while lying on a couch in a corner.
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t, I swear. I almost...but I couldn’t.” I shut my eyes. “He died anyway. I thought he killed himself, but not anymore. His father did it. I know he did.”
“Oh, my God.” She covers her mouth in shock. “The maid as well?” Tasha was already familiar with the story from the news, so I don’t have to fill in all the details. “You think he did that too?”
I nod.
She takes hold of my hands. “I already knew who you were. Mrs. Foster told me not long before she died.”
“And you still want to help me?”
“I do because I don’t believe you did it. I haven’t known you for long, but my gut tells me you’re not a murderer.”
