“Thank you. I did start making plans, though. I saved money, even got a fake ID. I was going to sneak away when I had enough money saved. I never intended to kill him, but he would have killed me if I hadn’t. I believe that. I know I panicked, but don’t you see? Stupid or not, I had no choice.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Lena. Scared, yes, but not stupid. We need to find out if he is still alive or not.”
“Yeah, but I can’t. If he is dead, I’ll be arrested for murder, and if he’s not dead, he’ll find me, and then I’ll be dead.”
“No, he won’t kill you. I won’t let him. And as far as you committing murder? Not a chance. One look at you, and any cop would know what happened.”
“God, no. Please, Jackson, I can’t involve the cops. I know you want to help, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’ve done so far, but I’ll need to leave just as soon as I can.”
Chapter 17
Jackson
“No!” I practically shouted the word. “I can help you. Let me.”
“I know what’s going to happen. My mother, she went to jail. She went to jail for two years for shooting my stepfather, and he hadn’t even died. She’d had bruises on her as well, and when she got out of jail he found us and killed her. The police didn’t believe my mother’s story, why would they believe mine?” She sobbed, and her body shook. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Please, don’t turn me in.”
“Shhhh, shhhh.” I stroked her hair and held her close. “Lena, trust me, I won’t turn you in, but I will help you get through this. I promise. How about you try and get some rest now.”
She nodded and leaned back on the pillow, draping her arm across her forehead. “I’ll try, but please, you promised, no cops.”
“I promise.”
I would keep my promise and not involve the police, but I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. This time when she fell asleep I took the liberty of looking in her purse for some identification. I felt horrible about snooping in her things like that, but I didn’t think she’d give me her last name considering how scared she was, and I needed to know if I was going to help her. I found three IDs: one said, Lana Martin, one Lena Harington. The third one had expired a year ago, and the name on it was Lena Benton, most likely her maiden name. Lana was her fake name, and she’d told me the ass-wipe’s first name, in addition to shouting the name out in her dream. Troy. I assumed that her husband’s full name must be Troy Harington.
Leaving Lena there on the bed to sleep, I went down to the main house. I had to find out if her husband was dead or alive. If he was dead, I had to find a way to talk Lena into confessing. I knew that would be going back on my word, but I had no intention of aiding and abetting or harboring a fugitive—not that I considered her a fugitive; I didn’t think she was guilty of anything except being scared—but if she didn’t turn herself in, then she damn well would be, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be a fugitive myself. I’d never call the cops directly. I’d keep that part of my promise for sure. If she did manage to kill the S.O.B., I’d try my damndest to convince her to do the right thing.
The address on the Lena Harington ID was in Medford, Oregon. She’d mentioned Medford that very first day, but never really said that was where she was from, so I hoped the ID was current.
Unfortunately, it wasn't. After an extensive search on the internet, where I accessed several different background checking services, I found that out. So I did a wide area search for a Troy Harington in cities six hours away in all four directions. I came up with twelve individuals with the name Troy Harington. One was just a small boy of six—that ruled him out—one an older man of fifty-five, residing in Brookings. I didn’t think Lena would be married to someone that old, but one never knew. I continued down the list, checking the ages of each person. Most were middle aged, but the seventh Troy Harington on the list looked promising—a twenty-three-year old construction worker residing in Medford. Nice of him to advertise I thought as I studied the resume. The jerk never bothered to remove it after he found employment.
His current employer was Smith and Trent Building Association.
I made a call to my friend Luke Preston, a guy I’d gone to college with. Luke was now an attorney based out of Portland. The guy was a genius who had managed to graduate and pass the bar all before he turned twenty-four. Though Luke was a few years older than me, we’d hit it off immediately, and seemed to find ourselves hanging out together at those all night frat parties at the house. It was nice hanging with a senior, especially one with a lot of connections. I was just a freshman—a younger than most freshman at that, and Luke got me into most of the clubs without questions about I.D. At barely seventeen I didn’t possess one for legally drinking, of course, so it was nice to have him on my side.
“Sharper, Lloyd, and Preston. How may I help you?” a sweet, smooth voice sang through the portable phone I held to my ear.
“Yes, I’d like to speak with Luke Preston,” I told the lady on the other end.
“May I tell him who is calling?”
“Jackson Beaumont.”
She put me on hold, and within a few seconds, Luke came on the line. “Hey, Jackie, how the hell are you?”
“Great, great.”
“Still running your uncle’s pub outside of Redding?”
“Yep, and still enjoying watching my brother work his tail off in it.”
“Well, hey, when you grow tired of that tough life you let me know, we still have room for another great attorney here—providing you pass the bar.”
“Ha ha, thanks. Keep dreaming. I need a favor.”
“Anything for a fraternity brother pal, you know that.”
“Yeah, that’s why I called you. Anyway, could you check on a guy named Troy Harington? He lives in Medford, Oregon. Works in construction, I think. See if he’s still living in the area, and see if he’s showed up for work, um … since, last Tuesday, I think. He works for a small construction firm, Smith and Trent.”
“Sure, but can’t you do that yourself?”
“I could, but it’s complicated. It would be better if you did it from there. I don’t want the guy to find out I’m the one checking.”
As much as I trusted Luke, I didn’t want to give him any more information just yet, and if Troy was still alive, I didn’t want to raise any flags and have Troy trace me to Lena. The fright emanating from that girl’s mind was way too strong.
“Okay, Jack, give me thirty minutes and I’ll get back to you.”
“Great. And Luke, keep this under the radar will you?”
“Sure, sure, no problem, talk to you in a few.”
I hung up and called Brodie.
“Brodie, how’s it going?” I considered asking Brodie to call one of his cuties to borrow some clothes for Lena, and then decided to just buy her something new instead. That would be better, the fewer people that knew about her the better.
“Good, not too busy here, are you coming in today?”
“Not today, maybe tonight. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Oh, your ‘fawn’ keeping you occupied, I guess.” I could picture Brodie’s eyebrows wiggling as he made his little joke.
“Yeah, you could say that. Listen, I know I told you this before, but I want to make sure, don’t tell anyone about Lana, okay? And if anyone comes in asking about her or someone that looks like her, well, you don’t know anything and never saw her.”
“Jack, what’s going on? Is she in some sort of trouble?”
“You might say that.”
“It’s more than just abuse isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’ll fill you in some other time.”
“Jack.”
“Yeah Brodie, I know, I’ll be careful.”
I no sooner hung up from calling Brodie, when the phone rang again. It was Luke.
“Hey Jack, I got some information on that guy you asked about. Troy Harington. He didn’t show up to work last Tuesday or Wednesday.” My heart sank to the
bottom of my chest.
“He called in sick, said he had the flu.”
“Really?” I said, full of new hope. “Then he’s alive.”
“What do you mean, ‘then he’s alive?’ What have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”
“Me? Nothing. I’m just looking out for a friend of mine. A girl. It’s just good to hear he’s okay.”
“Yeah, funny thing is though, his boss said he heard the sound of voices over a loud speaker in the background when he’d called in sick. He said it sounded a lot like hospital voices. He asked if he was in the hospital, but Troy said no. I made a couple of calls to several of the local emergency rooms. Medford Mercy told me he’d been in there with a wound to the side of his abdomen, just missing his liver; it took the doctor fourteen stitches to sew him up. The guy said a garage door hinge flew into him while he was doing a repair on it. Came in with the metal still stuck in his gut.”
“Thanks, Luke. Out of curiosity, how did you get Mercy hospital to give you the information on him?”
“Oh, good thing for you, I sort of have a thing going on with a cute little nurse over there. She said the guy was a real jerk. 'Scum of the earth' were her exact words. What’s this about, Jackson? You can trust me. You know I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Yeah, I know. This guy beat up on a friend of mine. He’s her husband. She’s young, scared, and doesn’t want to press charges.”
“Okay. Well, I know she’s in good hands with you. Let me know if she decides to file a complaint. Sounds like she needs a divorce, too.”
“Yeah.” Wouldn’t that be nice, I thought. “Thanks, Luke. I owe you one. I’ll call you to file a restraining order against the guy just as soon as I get some pictures and a police report filed if she agrees.”
“No problem. Hey, it sounds like you’re looking to get into the P.I. business. What’s the matter, the music world not cutting it for you?”
“Naw. Music’s my life. You know that. I’m just looking out for a friend. I’ll try and email those pictures to you by this afternoon.”
“I knew there had to be a female in the mix here somewhere. Keep me posted,” Luke said, chuckling as he hung up the phone.
Well, great! Lena didn’t kill the bastard. Unfortunately, though, she was married—to a scumbag—but still, married. Now I had to find a way to tell her so she wouldn’t be upset with me for checking.
Before I knew it, two hours had gone by. I went upstairs to check on Lena. I peeked in through the glass. She was still sound asleep and looked like an angel as she lay there with Rosie sleeping under her arm and Rufus down at the other end on top of her feet. I hated to disturb her, so I turned to leave when I heard her call my name.
“Jackson?”
I used my key and opened the door. “Yeah. Hey, I ah … wanted to know if you wanted something to eat, but I thought you were still sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Yeah, I saw you peeking in. Thanks, but I’m not very hungry right now.” She reached behind her and pulled out the plastic bag that once held ice, now just a bag of water. “Hey, let me get you some more ice. It’s good that you’ve been applying it so often. It looks like it’s helping a lot. Your eye isn’t nearly as bad as it was a couple of days ago.” I picked up the baggie and stopped. “Do you think I could borrow that hammer you have stashed under your pillow?”
“She smiled. “Sure.”
She handed me the hammer, and I went to fill the baggie with ice cubes, crushing them down to small chips so they would be easier to manipulate and less bumpy against her eye.
“Here, place this on your eye for a while.”
“Thanks,” she said when I handed her the new cold bag of ice. “I’ve been applying it about three times a day. The sooner I can go out in public, the sooner I can pay you.”
She rubbed her hand over her forehead before sinking back down so the ice bag could rest over her eye. She looked sleepy, laying there staring up at me with one eye. I dreaded telling her what I knew, and I figured she would be furious with me, but I couldn’t let her continue to believe she actually killed her husband.
“Lena,” I said, and she looked up at me with that one groggy, sad eye. I changed my mind. This girl had enough pain going on right now. What I had to tell her would only make her angry and hurt that I betrayed her. I couldn’t tell her yet. I needed more time to get her to trust me.
“What is it?” she asked, and winced as she repositioned her still injured body on the sofa as if trying to alleviate some of the pain in her side.
“Are you comfortable here?” A stupid question, considering how much pain she was in, but it was all I could come up with, and I didn’t want to continue with what I had originally intended to tell her.
She gave me a half smile. “Yes. Thank you. This is more than I could have hoped for.”
“Okay. Good. You stay as long as you want, then.”
“Well, I will pay you, as soon as I get back on my feet and I’m able to earn some money.”
“I know. I have faith in you.” And I did. I would give her another day or two to get to know me and trust me more, before probing her with questions as well as revealing my betrayal. “Do you need anything before I go back downstairs?”
“No, I’m fine for now.”
“I’ll come back up and bring you something to eat a little later on.”
Every time I went up to see Lena or bring her something, I stayed to talk. I enjoyed her company, and I hoped she was enjoying mine. I hated lying to her about her husband. Keeping up the ruse of not knowing whether she killed him or not grated on my conscience, especially the way she continued to agonize over the act. Lena was not a killer, but she believed with all her soul that she was. Today, I decided I would change that.
She sat in her usual spot on the daybed, and I sat down at the other end, but I didn’t feel comfortable there. I needed to be facing her, so I got up and sat on the coffee table in front of her.
“Lena, I know you’ll be pissed, and I’m sorry.”
Her eyes grew wide with fear. “What did you do?”
“I … ah … I’m sorry, but I took the liberty of doing some checking while you were sleeping yesterday, and I had to go through your purse to do it.” Her mouth gaped open, and I held up my hands, palms out, when she started to object. “Sorry, I needed your last name. I called a friend of mine that I went to school with, Luke. He’s an attorney residing in Portland. He checked on Troy Harington—that is your husband, right?”
“Oh no! You didn’t! You promised! I need to get out of here.” She sat up, looking as if she wanted to bolt, but I didn’t think she really had the strength, and she remained seated. “How could you? I trusted you.”
“Please, you can trust me. You’re safe here. I trust Luke. He would never betray me.”
“You turned me in.”
“No! I didn’t.” Shit. Agitated, I ran my hand through my hair. The last thing I wanted was for her to lose trust in me.
“But the police, they’ll find me now.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The police aren’t looking for you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Troy is still alive. You didn’t kill him, so you can relax.”
“He’s alive?” Lena closed her eyes and sank back against the sofa. “That’s even worse.”
“No, it’s going to be okay.”
“How did you find this out?”
“I have resources. My buddy, Luke, the attorney I know, checked with his work. Troy called in sick the morning you stabbed him, but his boss said he sounded as if he was calling from a hospital. Luke called around to a few emergency rooms. He got lucky when he called a girlfriend of his that works at Medford Mercy. She told him that Troy had been in there needing stitches in his stomach. Apparently, he told the doctors he had some sort of accident while repairing a garage door. So, you’re completely in the clear.”
She didn’t exactly look thrilled. In fact,
she started to cry. “It would be better if he were dead. Now I have to keep running. I’d rather go to jail. At least I’d stay alive there.”
“Lena, I won’t let him find you. I won’t let him hurt you. You need to trust me. You won’t go to jail for stabbing him either. You were defending yourself. We can have him picked up for beating you. He won’t have a chance once the police see you. They will believe you. I promise.”
“No. You don’t understand. Even if he goes to jail now, he’ll get out eventually, and he’ll come after me. The only thing we’ll accomplish is making him madder.”
“Okay, we’ll do it your way. We won’t have him picked up, but let me file a police report just so we have proof that he beat you. And at least let me help you file for a divorce. You can stay hidden; he won’t find you here.”
“How can I stay hidden if I file for a divorce?”
I scooted next to Lena and put my arm around her shoulder. She flinched a little, but I left it there anyway. I needed her to trust me, and the best way I knew how to do that was to let her realize I wouldn’t hurt her. I didn’t want her to go through the rest of her life being afraid of men, me in particular.
“Well, I may appear to be your average Joe bartender, but underneath all this …” I gestured to myself by splaying my fingers out and let my hand flow down in front of me from my head to my waist. “I do know something about the law. So, I guess it’s my turn to tell you something about me. I said I’d tell you my secret if you told me yours, so here goes. I was going to be an attorney. My parents wanted—or my mother wanted—me to be an attorney. I graduated college, but never continued on with law school. Brodie talked me into joining the police department with him instead. Told me I was too tough to be a lawyer, and that I should be a cop with him. My brother knows me pretty well; we both knew I’d hate sitting in an office. We joined the police department, went through the academy together. We were both cops for a while. One day I got this wild hair up my ass and decided police work was too unforgiving, too violent. I’m an extremely placid guy, can’t handle too much violence. Anyway, I talked Brodie into going into business with me, to become Private Investigators and move out of the city. Sounded like a great idea to him. We grew up out here in this town, and we had both grown tired of the hustle and bustle of big city life, so we came back home. The thing is that there’s not too many people out here who need a good PI.”
Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) Page 8
