Guilty as Sin

by Jami Alden

  “Tracy left dinner for you. Why don’t you go get Brooke and see if she’ll come sit with us. I think we could all use a bite to eat.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Kate said, taking his arm in her hand and tugging him firmly to the door. “Right now you’re going on nothing but adrenaline and anxiety, and that will only get you so far. You need to keep your strength up. Not just for Tricia—you have another daughter too,” she reminded him a little too forcefully.

  Jackson gave a heavy sigh but allowed Kate to shoo him out of the office. He paused on the way to the kitchen at the foot of the stairs and called up. “Brooke, come down and have some supper.”

  Silence.

  As he trudged heavily up the stairs, Kate and CJ went to the kitchen and busied themselves getting dinner out and setting the table. From upstairs, she could hear the rap of Jackson’s fist on the door and the low murmur of voices.

  She wasn’t entirely surprised when Jackson returned alone. “She won’t come down.”

  They ate in silence, and after Kate was satisfied Jackson had eaten enough to keep him going, she and CJ cleared the table.

  “When did Tommy say he’d have news?” Jackson asked as he walked them to the door.

  “He said it could take several hours,” CJ said. “You should try to get some rest. We’ll call you as soon as we know anything more.”

  “Rest?” Jackson said with a snort of disgust. His shoulders straightened, and for a moment Kate got a glimpse of the harassed military man he once had been. “Think you’d be able to rest if your fourteen-year-old daughter disappeared and you had no idea where she was?”

  Two slashes of red appeared on CJ’s cheekbones, and he unconsciously straightened to attention. “I’m sure I wouldn’t, sir. I apologize for suggesting it.”

  “We’ll speak soon,” Kate said, and impulsively reached up to give Jackson a hug. He jerked a little in surprise at first, then returned the embrace, his arms almost desperately tight around her as though trying to absorb whatever comfort he could get. By the time he let her go, Kate’s eyes were wet again, thinking about the long, sleepless night he would spend.

  She and CJ bypassed the press with curt “no comments.” But when Kate got to her car, she realized she’d left her purse in the kitchen. She waved CJ off and hurried back up the walkway.

  She knocked lightly and tried the knob. It was unlocked so she let herself in. There was no sign of Jackson, who must have retreated to the office once again.

  As she went to the kitchen, she saw a girl sitting at the kitchen table, staring sightlessly out the window, a plate of salad sitting untouched in front of her. Dark, straight hair hung to the middle of her back, and her slim, tanned arms were shown off by a bright green tank top. Kate immediately recognized Brooke from the pictures that had been flashed around the news.

  Kate said her name and got no response. As she walked closer to the table, she saw the telltale white cords coming out from under her ears and realized she was wearing earbuds.

  Kate waved, trying to catch her attention.

  Brooke let out a little shriek and jumped about a foot, knocking over her chair in the process. “What are you doing here?” she said as she fumbled with her iPod. She stood with her arms folded around her stomach, as if she was trying to keep herself from flying apart.

  “I’m Kate Beckett,” Kate said, and held out her hand. Brooke accepted, and though her hand was small and chilled, her grip was surprisingly firm.

  “I know,” Brooke said simply. “I’ve seen you on the news.”

  Kate nodded.

  “I was obsessed with the Madeline Drexler case,” she said. “You were all over that.”

  Kate’s shoulders tightened. “Yes, I got very involved with the case and Madeline’s family.”

  Brooke cocked her eyebrow and studied her in the way only a teenage girl could, with the kind of utter disdain that came from the false confidence that you knew everything.

  “A lot of people think it’s your fault she was killed,” she said.

  No matter how many times Kate heard it, it never failed to stab her straight through the chest. “I made a mistake and trusted the wrong person. But I never purposely did anything to hurt Madeline. I did everything I could to get her back safe. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty though.”

  Brooke blinked and, when she opened her eyes, the teenage arrogance was gone, giving way to an expression that could only be described as tortured. “I didn’t think it was your fault—what happened to Madeline. It’s nobody’s fault but that sick pig who took her. He’s the one who took her. He’s the one who killed her, right? Not you? Right?”

  Brooke’s voice raised in pitch with every syllable, and Kate could tell by the desperate look on her face she needed something, anything, to help convince her that it wasn’t her fault that her sister was kidnapped, hurt, possibly even dead.

  Despite Tricia’s description of Brooke’s mean-girl antics, Kate’s heart ached like a big bruise in her chest. She knew exactly how Brooke felt, knew that no matter whether deserved or not, she would always blame herself, always have the guilt eating away at her like acid. And she knew that even if she didn’t believe it, she needed someone to tell her it wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t a horrible person who allowed her sister to be hurt.

  “Of course he was ultimately to blame. Just as whoever took Tricia is to blame for whatever happens to her.”

  Brooke nodded, but the look in her eyes told her she didn’t believe Kate for a second. “Have you found anything else about where she could be?” the girl asked.

  Kate debated the wisdom of revealing their latest findings to Brooke and decided to go for it. “We found chat logs from a bulletin board for kids who have lost their parents.”

  Even guilt and grief stricken, Brooke couldn’t restrain from rolling her eyes. “I told Tricia she should get some real friends instead of hanging out online with a bunch of whiny losers.”

  “Did she ever talk about any of the people she chatted online with?”

  Brooke shook her head. “No, especially not after I—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  “After you hacked into her account and put her conversations up on Facebook?”

  The girl’s face blushed beet red. “You probably think I’m a total bitch, just like my dad does—”

  “I’m sure your father doesn’t think that.”

  “He does! Before this all happened, before we even came here, he told me how disappointed he was in me and how disappointed Mom would be if she saw how mean I was being to Tricia.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but that couldn’t stop the tears pouring down her face. Kate didn’t speak, sensing a dam had just been breached, unleashing everything Brooke had been holding inside.

  She didn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps on the floor until they were right next to her. She looked up, startled, to see Jackson standing there, looking confused at the sight of his daughter sobbing on the shoulder of a virtual stranger.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  Kate shook her head. “I was just asking Brooke about some things—”

  “What did you do to upset her?” he demanded. “Don’t we have enough to deal with without you sending my daughter into hysterics?”

  “I didn’t—” Kate started to defend herself.

  “She didn’t do anything,” Brooke said. Before anyone could stop her, she turned and ran from the room.

  Jackson stared after her for a moment, then shook his head. “Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course,” she said, while inside she was screaming at him to go to her, to comfort her. As she heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, she couldn’t help thinking of the night Michael died. How she had retreated to the corner, alone, dying for any bit of comfort.

  She went back to the volunteer headquarters to check in, compulsively checking her phone to see if there was any word fro
m Tommy.

  Finally, exhausted and gritty eyed, she drove to the townhouse she’d rented in a complex near the lake and made a beeline for the master bedroom. Though her body ached with tiredness, she couldn’t still her brain, the thought and worries fluttering around like a swarm of moths.

  They were going to get Tricia back. They had to.

  Chapter 6

  She lay still across the bed, one fragile wrist thrown across her forehead. Her breath was heavy with sleep, and he watched, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall. In the dim light cast by the candle he’d lit, he could see that her cheeks were flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Even with the fan going the little room was stifling. He felt his own skin get sticky under the layers of his shirt and hooded sweatshirt.

  He grimaced, hating the thought of her suffering any discomfort. But there was no help for it. For now, she would have to suffer the overbearing heat, just as others had had to suffer the elements, whether it was freezing cold or bone-chilling damp.

  She shifted in her sleep, and a metal clang drew his attention to her slim right wrist. Tucked halfway under the pillow so you couldn’t see the cuff around it, or the chain that attached it to another cuff that was locked around the bars of the headboard.

  Looking at her like this, he could almost believe she was here because she wanted to be, a willing lover sleeping in their bed, dreaming of the moment he would join her.

  Soon. Soon she would smile and open her arms in welcome instead of cowering back in fear or lashing out in anger.

  She was the one. He knew it, in the very depths of his soul. He’d known it from the first moment he’d seen her, standing in front of Ike’s, her big blue eyes taking everything in, her small pink tongue licking at her soft-serve ice cream cone with the kind of innocent sensuality that only the truly pure possessed.

  She was so beautiful, he marveled, the most beautiful one yet. With her long, wheat-colored curls that spilled across the pillow, her blue eyes now hidden under lids so heavily lashed they cast shadows on the curve of her cheekbones. Her features were delicately sculpted but still had a hint of girlish roundness. Her soft, parted lips were still a childish deep pink, not yet needing any color to enhance them.

  And her body… just blossoming from a girl to a woman. Her breasts were small mounds pushing against the soft cotton of the T-shirt he’d dressed her in. Her legs and arms had that long, coltish look that never failed to drive him crazy.

  So long and tan and lean, inspiring a thousand fantasies of what it would feel like to have them wrap around him as he kissed that pink mouth, drove himself into the depths of a body untouched by any man but him.

  He felt a heat and heaviness between his legs, his blood running thick and hot at the images that filled his mind. He shoved them angrily aside. He was not going to sully her with such thoughts. She was pure and fresh and beautiful and deserved to be treated like a queen. He wouldn’t allow himself to dishonor her with his filthy lust, not until she came to him willingly, in love, accepting him as her husband before she accepted him as her lover.

  He willed his body back into submission and took a seat in the chair he’d set next to the bed, taking care to pull the hood of his sweatshirt closer to his face. He reached out and brushed her hair back from her cheek, closing his eyes as he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair and skin.

  Even the close, musty air couldn’t disguise her fresh, floral scent. Her hair was like silk between his fingers, her skin satin smooth.

  Every inch of her absolutely perfect.

  “Wake up, my love,” he whispered. She shifted against the covers and turned her face away, her brow furrowing as she tried to hold onto sleep.

  He gave her shoulder a little shake. She made a snuffling sound but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Come on, Tricia love,” he said with another gentle shake. She shouldn’t be completely out—the dose he’d given her earlier was small enough that he should be able to rouse her.

  Slowly, as though weighted, her eyelids lifted, revealing beautiful eyes still blurry with sleep and the drugs he’d had to give her to keep her quiet while he was out. Her eyes scanned the room, and he saw the moment she realized this wasn’t a dream. She was awake, and this was her reality now.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. She tried to jerk away from his touch, but her moves were clumsy and she was stopped short when she reached the end of her chain. “Why are you doing this?” she cried, her voice high and hysterical as she jerked at her chain over and over.

  Thin streams of crimson leaked from her cuffed wrist, and his stomach clenched at the sight. He grabbed her arm and yanked her close. “You have to stop it! You’re only hurting yourself!” he said tightly. “And you’ll understand why I’m doing this soon enough. Just be a good girl, a sweet girl, and I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.” He stroked her cheek, trying not to let the way she cringed away bother him, reminded himself they always did at first. Some of them never stopped.

  But Tricia, sweet Tricia, she would eventually love him back, given enough time. “I just want to go home,” she said with a soft sob.

  His fingers curled into a fist and he pulled his hand away, tamping down his disappointment as he retrieved the bags he’d brought with him. “I brought you some food,” he said as he arranged the cartons on the small table in the center of the room.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said sullenly, her voice muffled by the pillow she’d buried her face in.

  “It’s the chicken panini from Mary’s,” he said softly. “I know it’s your favorite.”

  “How do you know that?” she said, her eyes wide and wary as she rolled over to look at him.

  He smiled patiently. “I know everything about you, remember?”

  She swallowed hard, and the sight of her throat bobbing up and down under the delicate skin made him want to taste it with his tongue. “How?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked as he placed half of her sandwich on a plate, along with some potato chips. He sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the plate, carefully keeping his face turned from the light. She scooted as far away from him as she could go.

  The fury he held so carefully in check tried to rear its ugly head. He fought it back, reminding himself he couldn’t take it personally. Of course she was wary. This was all new to her. Unlike him, she didn’t see, she didn’t know yet how gloriously happy they were going to be. She needed time to get used to the idea, get used to him.

  Once that happened, she would gladly accept him into her heart, into her body.

  And if she didn’t… He shoved away the images of the others who had come before. The defiant ones. The lying, cheating bitches who only pretended to love him.

  They were nothing, insignificant, he told himself. Bugs he’d crushed once he’d realized his mistakes. And he was disrespecting Tricia by letting them even slip into his thoughts while he was with her.

  “Here.” He picked up the sandwich and waved it under her nose. “You’ve only had a little juice since I brought you here. I know you must be hungry.”

  As if on cue, her stomach let out a low growl. Her cheeks pinkened and her eyes dropped. He put the sandwich right to her lips. Her lips parted and her small white teeth closed over one corner as she reluctantly took a bite.

  Watching her chew and swallow, he felt a surge of pride to see her eat the food that he’d provided. Call him old-fashioned, but this was what he truly felt he was made for. Caring for, providing for the woman he loved.

  After a few bites she took the sandwich from him to feed herself. “Barbecue is my favorite flavor too,” he said as she ate her chips. “See how much we have in common?”

  Her gaze flicked warily to him but she didn’t say anything as she pushed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth.

  “Soon you’ll see,” he said, unable to resist reaching out and running his hand up her bare, smooth thigh. “We are going to be so happy together.”

  She froze midch
ew. Then, with a look of disgust that cut him to his very core, she reared her head back and spit a half-chewed mess of chicken and bread at him and flung herself across the bed, crying out as the chain stopped her momentum and dug the cuff deeply into her wrist.

  “You’re a fucking psycho. You’re totally whacked if you ever think I would ever want to be with a creep like you.”

  This time there was no stopping the beast as it roared free inside of him. He saw nothing but red as he leapt across the bed, grabbed her, and threw her back down onto the mattress. “You will not speak to me like that!” he yelled as his hand connected with her cheek. “You will treat me with respect or it will go very badly for you.”

  He slapped her again, hard enough to whip her head to the side. The red fog faded and he sat back, trembling, his hands clenched into fists. Her left eye was swollen and her bottom lip was puffy and bleeding. “Look what you made me do,” he said, running his fingers gently over the bruise blooming on her cheekbone. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t allow you to disrespect me. Now apologize for saying those things and spitting your food at me.”

  She was silent, her eyes locked on a spot just past his shoulder.

  His mouth tightened as he fisted his hand into her hair and jerked her up from the bed. She sat up with a cry, her head twisted to the side as his fingers tightened.

  “Apologize,” he said through clenched teeth.

  At her continued silence, he reached out with his other hand and covered her breast. He clamped his fingers over it, squeezing until she let out a whimper of pain. “Apologize, or this is just the beginning of your lesson in good manners.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

  “Louder,” he said, pinching her nipple and twisting it hard.

  “I’m sorry,” she yelled. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  He felt a warm glow at the look of submission in her eyes. The first step. He released her and sat back. “I promise I’ll never hurt you, Tricia,” he said, his voice gentle once again. “Not unless you make me. What’s most important now is for you to accept the fact that you belong with me now. And I will never let you go.”