Don't Tell

by Karen Rose

  “Then we’re in deep shit. Oops!” Dana covered her mouth and looked around to see if any of the surrounding teens had heard her swear.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Caroline advised, waving to Tom who wore a scowl. “They’ve got you beat ten ways to Sunday. These kids know words I never heard in seven years of living with a—” She stopped abruptly, pursed her lips and clenched her eyes shut. “Oh, my God.”

  In seven years of living with a cop. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Caroline had pulled back just in time. What was surprising was that she’d slipped at all. Caroline never slipped. Out of all the women Dana had ever welcomed to Hanover House, Caroline Stewart was the most determined to make her new life work. She’d taken every necessary precaution and quite honestly, more than a few Dana thought were unnecessary. The hair color Caroline chose seven years ago was still a major bone of contention between them.

  But Caroline’s way worked. Mostly. After seven years Caroline and Tom still lived in relative freedom. It wouldn’t be true freedom until Caroline stopped jumping every time somebody came up behind her, until she was comfortable in her own skin. Until she had a life of her own. Until Tom stopped carrying the burden of protecting his mother from a nightmare. Caroline would say relative freedom was enough. Dana disagreed, but had learned a long time ago that arguing with Caroline was largely a waste of breath. Dana tended to waste an awful lot of breath.

  Caroline sat on the bleacher, her hand over her mouth, looking as guilty as if she’d just propositioned the Pope. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered. “I never slip. Never.”

  Dana shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you’re finally starting to feel safe.”

  Caroline said nothing. She simply sat on the bleacher and stared at the hardwood court.

  “I’m glad I woke up in time to meet Max last night,” Dana mused. “Otherwise I would have had to rely on Mrs. Polasky’s description, although she was pretty accurate. She told me Max Hunter was the sexiest thing she’d seen in twenty-five years.” And he’d had kind eyes, Dana remembered with relief. After almost ten years in this business, she’d learned to trust her intuition. She could generally tell the perps, the violent ones. The ones that made her clients’ lives a living hell. Max Hunter had kindness in him. Dana wanted that kind of man for Caroline more than anything.

  Caroline looked over from the corner of her eye. “He asked me to go to dinner with him tonight.”

  Dana pursed her lips. “Two nights running. Interesting. You of course turned him down because you never miss Tom’s games.”

  Caroline drew her brows together. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  Dana let the smirk bend her lips, knowing how to yank Caroline’s chain just right. “Just that you wouldn’t refuse because you’re getting scared. You’d have to have a good reason.”

  “Shut up, Dana.”

  Dana chuckled again and threw another handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Did he ask you out for tomorrow night when you turned him down for tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you said?”

  “Yes.”

  Her best friend’s glum monosyllabic response stirred sympathy deep down. Dana kept it deep down. Caroline didn’t need coddling. “And now you’re thinking, ‘Oh, my God, what am I doing?’”

  Caroline sighed. “Yes.”

  “Articulate when our guts are tied up in knots, aren’t we?”

  Caroline glared. “Shut up, Dana.”

  Dana lifted a brow. “I rest my case. Caroline, did you have a good time with Max?”

  “Yes.” Her lower lip trembled and she bit it. “It was one of the nicest evenings I’ve ever had.”

  Dana shoved the sympathy down deep again. So many times she had to resist the urge to put her arms around the women in her care. Sometimes it was appropriate. Most of the time she couldn’t indulge herself in the touchy-feely stuff. Most of the time her clients needed a shove, gentle but resolute. But Caroline wasn’t a client. The woman biting her lip was her very best friend. Dana shoved her own feelings aside and shrugged nonchalantly. “Then go out with him again,” she tossed out, as if it made no difference either way. “Worst that could happen is you get a free dinner and enjoy the view across the table.”

  Caroline frowned. “What a terrible thing to say,” she snapped, then her eyes softened, registering understanding at what had been a rather transparent ploy. She blew out an enormous sigh, turning back to the court. “His brother fixed my car.”

  Dana jerked her eyes from the court to Caroline’s pensive profile. “What?”

  “His brother, David—you know, the one who—”

  Dana grinned. “The one who put Shaw-claw in her place? I like him already.”

  Caroline sucked in her cheeks, fighting her own grin, then gave up and let the smile take over her face. “It was a sight to behold,” she chuckled. “Anyway, I’d mentioned yesterday that my starter was busted and today after work David showed up with my keys. He said he had my car towed to his shop where he just ‘happened’ to have a rebuilt starter and it was really no trouble.”

  “So what did you do?”

  Caroline shrugged uneasily. “I was able to convince him to let me pay for the starter. He wouldn’t take anything for the labor. So I said thank you and took my keys. He seemed so happy to be able to help and I did need my car fixed.” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “What else could I have done?”

  “Depends. Does he look like Max?”

  Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then the least you could have done was mention you had a friend in dire need of a tune-up.”

  “And would I have meant you or your car?” Caroline asked dryly.

  Dana grinned. “Either. Both. I’m very flexible.” And ducked the popcorn Caroline threw at her head.

  Asheville

  Wednesday, March 7

  7 P.M.

  It had started to rain, a light, cold, spring rain, gently pattering against the roof of Steven’s parked rental car as it sat in Winters’s otherwise empty driveway. The interior of the car was silent except for the rhythmic swish of the wind-shield wipers.

  “Now what?” Steven wondered aloud, his voice harsh in the muted quiet. He hunched down in the driver’s seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. A major headache was coming on. Sue Ann Broughton had been terrified. He’d seen it in her eyes. He’d also seen the faded bruises on her face and neck. They were probably three or four days old, which meant they’d been put on her face right about the time Winters found out about his wife and son. He hated domestic abuse cases. Steven pinched the bridge of his nose harder. Especially when a cop was involved.

  Shaking off his mood, Steven pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Ross’s direct office line. “Lieutenant? Did Winters mention any plans to take a vacation?”

  “No,” Ross replied carefully. “Just that he was taking some leave to pull himself together after Sevier County pulled up his wife’s car.”

  “Did you tell him not to leave town?”

  “Yes.” She paused, then asked heavily, “Why?”

  Steven stared at Winters’s house, empty but for his battered girlfriend. “Because he’s gone.”

  Chicago

  Wednesday, March 7

  8:30 P.M.

  “I thought boys weren’t supposed to take as long with their toilette as girls,” Dana grumbled.

  “They do when they know the girls will be watching,” Caroline returned, throwing a pointed glance across the school’s lobby where a group of teenage girls waited for the basketball team to emerge from the locker area. “Anyway, here he comes. We can go now.”

  Tom broke away from the group, hanging behind for a last word with his coach. Her son’s face was not happy.

  “What are they talking about?” Dana whispered.

  “Tom’s game was off tonight,” Caroline murmured back. “He missed a couple of easy free throws and foul
ed twice. But Frank’s a good coach. He never yells at the boys. If he did, I’d be over there in his face myself.” For which, of course, she’d need a ladder. “He’s probably just telling Tom to mind his concentration and to stop paying attention to the cheerleaders.”

  Dana frowned. “That’s never seemed to distract him before. What else is bothering him?”

  Caroline watched Tom nod, his head down, her own heart troubled. “He was quiet at breakfast this morning. I think he’s a little thrown by Max.”

  “I thought he might be,” Dana said. “It would be abnormal if he weren’t.”

  “But it will pass, right?”

  “Life goes on, Caro. Tommy-boy is just going to have to accept that his mom is now a hunk-magnet. Ow,” she added when Caroline punched her arm.

  “Shut up, Dana.” She tilted her head when Tom approached. “Hard night out there, huh?”

  Tom nodded grimly. “Yeah.” And turned for the front doors without another word.

  “Using little words when you’re upset seems to run in the family,” Dana muttered under her breath, following.

  “Shut up, Dana.” Caroline hurried after Tom, Dana in tow. “What did Frank say, Tom?”

  “Nothing.” Tom deliberately lengthened his stride, dismissing her.

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. Not that way, Tom.” She gestured to the right when he turned left towards the bus stop. “We’re going to the parking lot.”

  Tom looked over at Dana, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

  The three walked in silence until they reached Caroline’s very old Toyota. Tom came to an abrupt halt. “What is this?” he demanded, glaring over his shoulder.

  Caroline pursed her lips. “My car.” She unlocked the driver’s door and flipped the unlock switch. “Get in.” She eyed him over the roof of the car. “Please.”

  He climbed in the back, barely waiting until she and Dana had fastened their seat belts before exploding. “How did you fix it? I thought we didn’t have enough money for me to go to basketball camp because we were saving to fix this piece of junk.” He aimed an angry punch to the tattered upholstery, then threw himself back into the seat, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

  “Uh-oh,” Dana muttered, then winced when Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Shutting up.”

  Caroline drew a controlled breath and slowly released it. Tom rarely got angry. So rarely she had no real practice in dealing with it. “Tom, I’m very sorry you had a bad game. I know it doesn’t happen often enough for you to get practice controlling your … disappointment.” Not bad, she thought to herself. Not bad at all. “That doesn’t, however, give you an excuse to be surly. So stop it,” she added sharply. “We’ll talk about this after we’ve dropped Dana off.”

  Tom straightened in the back seat. “How did you get the money to get the car fixed?” he asked suspiciously, ignoring her direct order to drop the subject.

  Caroline sighed and pulled out of the parking place. “Max’s brother David fixed it for me.”

  A beat of silence hovered. “How very nice of him,” Tom said. Coldly.

  Caroline looked into the rearview mirror in surprise. He’d turned away, now staring out the window, but she could see enough of his profile in the strobe flash of the streetlights to make her blood run cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Temper simmered at his tone and the thought he’d left deliberately unsaid. “No. No. You spit out something like that, you follow it up, young man. What-is-that-supposed-to-mean?”

  “Caroline,” Dana murmured.

  Caroline gripped the steering wheel, her hands shaking. She hated confrontations like this. They made her nauseous. But Tom was her son. Whatever he was feeling needed to be dealt with. He also needed to learn he couldn’t get away with disrespect, whatever its source. “If he’s old enough to start down this path, he’s old enough to explain himself, Dana. Tom? Explain.”

  “Why did Max’s brother fix your car?” he asked acidly.

  “Because he’s a nice man. I had dinner with Max and his brother last night and I mentioned my starter was broken. In conversation,” she added meaningfully. “David was trying to help.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes,” Caroline answered, exasperated. “Just like that. Tom, there are nice people in the world who do nice things without expecting anything in return. Can you understand that?”

  Tom said nothing for a moment. Then, “Yeah. I understand.”

  Caroline bit the inside of her cheek. The remainder of the ride to Dana’s apartment was completed in tense silence. Dana patted her shoulder as she unbuckled her seat belt.

  “He’s only fourteen, Caroline,” she murmured.

  Going on forty, Caroline thought, making an attempt at a smile. “’Night, Dana.”

  Dana glanced into the backseat uneasily before slamming the car door.

  Caroline had driven five minutes before quieting her heart enough to calmly speak. “Tom, you and I have been through a lot over the years and I’ve always been honest with you. You need to give me the same respect.” She stopped at a red light and looked into the rearview mirror. He was still staring out the window. “Tom, I like Max.” She watched his jaw tense. “I like him a lot. And I’ll be honest with you now. This is new for me. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. But I do know I feel happy when I’m with him. If you let yourself, I think you’ll like him, too.” Tom didn’t budge a muscle and the light turned green. Shaking her head, Caroline put the car in motion.

  Another five minutes passed before Tom spoke. “People might do nice things for no reason at all. Men don’t.”

  Caroline felt her heart sink. Oh, baby, she thought, fighting the urge to cry, wishing to heaven her son didn’t believe that was true. “Tom, I—”

  Tom’s body moved then, so quickly she was startled. He came forward, gripping her headrest, giving it a hard shake in his hands. “I can’t believe you don’t see it, Mom. I can’t believe you’re so damn naïve.”

  Caroline stared straight ahead, her hands gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles throbbed. She drew a breath, trying to ignore the sharp stab of pain in her heart. Naïve? Maybe so. But it was far better to be naïve than bitter, although she must have become bitter somewhere along the way. Where else could her son have learned that tone? Her budding relationship with Max took on even greater significance. “I’m having dinner with him tomorrow, Tom,” she said quietly. Firmly.

  “Mom!” he cried, then released her headrest and sunk back against his seat, his face taut.

  They’d arrived in front of their apartment and she slid her car into an open slot, grateful to find one so close to the building. The neighborhood was rough after dark. One day she’d be able to afford better. One day her son would see that people … that men could be kind. She turned to face his angry eyes. “I know you’re upset because you love me. I’m asking you to love me enough to trust me, Tom.”

  Tom shook his head. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he muttered, bolting from the car and up the landing into their building, not looking back.

  Chapter Nine

  Chicago

  Thursday, March 8

  6:45 P.M.

  Caroline was tense today. Had been since she’d brought him his morning coffee. It emanated from her in waves so powerful they were almost tangible. But she’d insisted nothing was wrong.

  He’d had a meeting run late with the dean after classes and wasn’t sure she’d even be waiting for their dinner date when he got back, but she was. She was tense and preoccupied, but she was there waiting for him and Max considered that a good sign.

  So now they walked together, side by side, out of Carrington’s history building and towards his car, but she was miles away. Something had changed. Max just wished he knew what. He’d already racked his brain, wondering what he possibly could have done to precipitate her current mood and determined he’d done nothing.

  He shivere
d and pulled his coat lapels closer with his free hand. He’d forgotten how cold Chicago spring freezes could be. Caroline was freezing, too, her teeth chattering. Her coat was thin, and thinking of her broken-down car and her apartment in the poorer section of town, he wondered if she couldn’t afford anything better. Again a feeling of protectiveness welled from somewhere deep inside, but it was no longer unfamiliar.

  So intent he was on Caroline, he completely missed seeing the patch of ice. His feet lost purchase with the pavement and …

  “Ugh.” The grunt was accompanied by a solid thud as he hit the pavement. The grunt came from his throat. The thud came from his head.

  For a moment the world went black. Then Max opened his eyes and saw stars. Luckily they were in the sky, right where they were supposed to be. He wagged one foot experimentally, then the other, sighing with relief when both feet responded normally. He pushed himself up on his elbows, still blinking when Caroline appeared at his side.

  She dropped to her knees and went to work checking for broken bones. “What happened?”

  “I was practicing my gymnastics,” Max responded dryly. “That was my triple Lutz.”

  Caroline looked up from examining his knees with a wry grin. “That’s figure skating.”

  “So I had a little trouble on the dismou-Ow-nt!” Max shrunk back from her hands when she hit a sore spot just above his knee. “Just making sure you were paying attention.”

  “Trust me, I was,” she murmured.

  “Oh, really?” he asked, his deep voice going even deeper.

  Caroline met his gaze head-on and nodded silently before dropping her eyes to his ankles to continue her cursory check for broken bones. She had been paying attention. All afternoon. She’d listened for every thump of his cane as he paced the length of his office, every rumble of his voice through the wall when he answered the phone. She’d alternate between wincing over Tom’s explosion the night before to reliving the wonderful evening of shared laughter with Max. Just as real were the memories of the shimmering sensations she felt at that tiny little caress of his thumb across her lip. That tiny little caress that rocked her to her toes, sent shivers down her spine, left her tingling long after. That tiny little peck on her lips that, God help her, left her wanting a whole lot more than dinner. She now sat back on her heels and looked at his face. He’d been watching her thoughtfully as she checked him for obvious injuries. The warmth in her cheeks now radiated through her whole body.