by Karen Leabo
At last, he had to speak up. “Jenn, no one could blame you for putting a hideous experience like that behind you. It’s only natural, a self-preservation tactic. You’re lucky you didn’t suffer mental problems, like multiple personalities.”
“I was a coward. He could have molested other children, and my silence would have allowed him to do that.”
“Did he?”
“I honestly don’t know, but most offenders don’t stop at one or two victims.”
“And you think that at age thirteen you were mature enough to understand that concept, and sacrifice yourself for the good of society in lieu of protecting what little you could salvage of yourself? You expect way too much.”
“Have you been talking to my therapist?” she asked suspiciously.
He almost smiled. “No. I’m just using common sense, seeing things in a way you can’t because you’re too close to the situation.”
She sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now whether I was right or wrong. What’s done is done. I have to concentrate on the future now, on not repeating past mistakes.”
“Yeah, the future.”
For the first time in a long time, Joe peered into his own future and couldn’t see anything clearly.
Jenn stayed within the comforting circle of Joe’s embrace for several minutes, like a butterfly in a warm cocoon. The confession hadn’t been nearly as painful as she’d feared. Then again, she’d never expected Joe to be so accepting of this new reality, so nonjudgmental.
Her thoughts wandered to their earlier kiss. She reviewed it in her mind, recalling the explosive heat, the unexpected pleasure, the sudden panic that had made her stiffen up like a two-by-four.
He probably thought she was frigid, she concluded. Doug had accused her of that, though he hadn’t come out and used that word. He’d said she was too passive, unresponsive. But she hadn’t known any other way to behave during a sexual encounter. Even Doug’s lovemaking, which had been tender and sweet, had made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
Something different had happened when Joe had kissed her. For the first time in her life she’d felt the spark of desire, the magic of her own blood racing through her veins. She hadn’t believed she ever would.
Of course, a surge of adrenaline during a kiss was a long haul from actually experiencing normal lovemaking with a man. But maybe, just maybe, it was possible.
Not now. She wouldn’t attempt to buy Joe’s loyalty with sex, and he might see it that way if she pursued a physical relationship with him. Still, hadn’t he said something about wanting to see her later, when this whole mess was resolved?
If it ever got resolved, she reminded herself. Hope and despair bloomed inside her almost simultaneously.
“We really should go back upstairs,” she said, though she hated to break the almost mystical shroud of common purpose that had settled around them. “I don’t like leaving Cathy alone this long.”
He released her in silent acquiescence, reluctantly, it seemed.
A fat calico cat slipped in through a torn section of screen and waddled over to inspect the interlopers. Jenn picked up her cooling cup of tea, intending to at least make a dent in it so Miss Haskins’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt. Joe offered his to the cat. She sniffed at it imperiously before turning up her nose in disdain.
“I’m with you, cat,” Joe said. “Raspberry tea—blech.”
“It’s good,” Jenn objected after a cautious taste. “And Miss Haskins claims it will prevent insomnia.” Jenn didn’t think she would have much trouble dropping off tonight. Sharing her burden with Joe had taken a tremendous load off her shoulders. For the first time in weeks, she looked forward to a good night’s sleep.
They made the Montana-Wyoming border by noon the next day, stopping only for gas and the necessary bathroom breaks. Joe had said he wanted to make up for lost time, and the newly repaired Monte Carlo seemed to devour the miles of blacktop with alarming speed.
Jenn was worried. Last night had been uneventful after they’d returned upstairs. Cathy had been sleeping like a log. Joe had pulled the roll-away bed across the room and flopped down on it, fully clothed, without much ado. He, too, had fallen asleep inside five minutes. Jenn had changed into a nightshirt, and had slept soundly, getting some rest she sorely needed.
But morning had brought a whole new wave of doubts. Joe had been cordial if slightly distant, seemingly preoccupied. No reference had been made to last night’s revelations or any change in plans. He’d seemed anxious to be on the road.
He’d said he needed time to think, she remembered, but how long would that be? She refrained from pressing him. She knew him well enough by now to be sure he would bring up the subject of her and Cathy’s fates when he was darn good and ready, and not a moment sooner. She suspected that driving helped him think, so she remained as quiet as possible and urged Cathy to do the same. They didn’t even stop for lunch, settling instead for their staple of cheese, crackers, fruit and juice consumed on the fly.
By midafternoon they’d passed into South Dakota. An hour or so later, out of the blue, Joe asked, “Have you all ever seen Mount Rushmore?”
“Nope,” Jenn answered cautiously, and she explained about the famous monument to a curious Cathy.
“I haven’t seen it, either. Want to take a tittle detour? It’s just a few miles off I-90.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Cathy, eager for any diversion that would get them out of the car. She’d become a well-behaved passenger over the past few months, but any active child had her tolerance limits.
“Sure,” Jenn concurred, then couldn’t help adding, “but won’t it delay us? You seem like you’re in such a hurry...”
“What’s an hour one way or another?” he said breezily. “Besides, we all need to stretch our legs.”
“Amen to that,” Jenn said, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She wasn’t as anxious to slow their return to Rhymer as she’d been before. Oddly, the more inevitable facing her moment of truth had become, the more eager she’d been to get on with it. But they did need a break. She was going stir-crazy.
Joe blithely paid their admission into the park and found a parking place in the crowded lot. It was a crisp, cloudless, flawless fall day and the tourists were out in force. Cathy skipped along the path that led toward the famous monument as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Jenn was frankly impressed when she caught her first glimpse of the historic rock carving. Cathy darted from one observation post to another. Joe simply folded his arms and stared, his face so still that it could have been carved from rock, just like President Lincoln’s.
“I need to ask you something,” he said. “Privately.”
“Ah, now the real reason for the tourist trap detour,” she said with a knowing nod. “Ask away.” She tried to sound cavalier, but his gravity worried her.
“What can you tell me about your sister?”
“Tammy?” The question took her by surprise.
“I assume that’s the only sister you have.”
“Well...” Jenn had to think. She didn’t usually dwell much on Tammy. “She was six years older than me, and we were never very close. I think she resented having to take care of me all the time while Mama worked. I was only seven when she ran away from home. She had a boyfriend, an older boy, Hank Something-or-other. She was a pretty wild kid.”
“How did she die?”
“Drug overdose. It was only a few weeks after she split. No one seemed very surprised about it. I guess I didn’t really understand what was going on. I remember a memorial service that almost nobody came to.”
“A memorial service? Not a funeral?”
“I think she was buried somewhere out of state, maybe where my real father’s family lives. Honest to God, you think I’d know, she being my own sister, but I’ve never been terribly curious about her.” In truth, she always got a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach when she thought about Tammy’s sad fate, so she usually pushed
it out of her mind. “Why are you interested in her?”
“Because if your stepfather abused you, he probably abused her, too.”
“I’ve thought about that. It fits. There were times when I considered running away, so I can see why she did it. But if she was abused, we’ll never know.”
“Yeah,” Joe said.
“I’ve been over the possibilities, Joe,” Jenn said, touching his hand. “I know I need some kind of corroborating testimony if I want anyone to believe me. But there’s no one. The only person I ever confided in was a music teacher I had in seventh grade. I thought she was really nice, and she seemed to take a special interest in me. But when I finally got up the nerve to tell her what was happening to me, she got so flustered that she turned three shades of pink. She told me I was exaggerating, or imagining things, that I’d probably dreamed it. She wasn’t about to get involved. Dennis was on the school board.”
“Where is she now?” Joe asked, his interest piqued again.
Jenn sighed. “She’s dead, too. Cancer. About ten years ago. See, I told you it’s hopeless.”
Joe scowled. “Not hopeless, but a definite challenge. I’ll have to think some more.”
Although not exactly optimistic, Joe’s words fanned the faint embers of Jenn’s hope. He hadn’t written her off. He was still considering his options. She had to have faith in him.
“Could we go up into their noses?” Cathy asked earnestly.
Jenn stifled a smile and tried to give the question a serious answer. “We’d probably fit, all right, but I don’t think the parks and recreation people would let us get that close.”
Joe didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Just think what size of tissue those guys would have to use.”
Cathy shrieked with laughter. The sound of it filled Jenn’s aching soul.
Joe couldn’t resist taking another quick detour through Badlands National Park. On the prairie grasslands they were lucky enough to spot a small group of bison, a pair of antelope, and one bighorn sheep standing high on top of one of the weird rock formations. But as soon as they returned to the main highway, he pushed ahead, hoping to make Sioux Falls by nightfall. They would find a suitable hotel there, he was sure.
He retreated into his own thoughts for most of the rest of the day, pondering his dilemma as well as Jenn’s. He knew now that he couldn’t cop out by pretending to believe that the justice system would sort out who was wrong and who would pay. Dennis Palmer’s sexual misconduct would be damn near impossible to prove when there was only one known victim and the abuse was umpteen years ago. Someone had to stick up for Jenn, and he’d already decided that someone would be him.
But how? What could he do for her? She was right. Without some kind of corroborating evidence, her chances of convincing a judge or jury that Dennis Palmer was a pedophile were next to nil.
He’d been sure Tammy Palmer would be the key, but not if she was dead. Still, might she have confided in someone? What about the boyfriend? Ah, hell, that was a long shot.
It was late when they reached Sioux Falls. Joe didn’t even bother looking for a hotel with a suite. He stopped at the first respectable-looking motel he saw and booked one room. Jenn didn’t even peep an objection. Joe figured he would again sleep in his clothes on the floor in front of the door.
The moment Jenn had Cathy tucked into bed, she practically passed out beside her daughter. She appeared to be asleep, fully clothed, and Joe decided she probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed simply so she could change into her nightgown. She looked perfectly peaceful.
Ah, hell, he’d have to wake her anyway.
Joe wanted to take a hot shower before he went to bed himself, to loosen up the tight muscles of his neck and back caused by too many hours behind the wheel. Reluctantly he dug the handcuffs out of his duffel. But an inspection of the bed proved that there was absolutely nothing to fasten the cuffs to.
“To hell with it,” he mumbled, putting the cuffs away. His prisoners were asleep, anyway. He’d take a five-minute shower and be out before they could miss him.
He quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped under the steaming spray. Would it be such a tragedy if Jenn and Cathy finally succeeded in escaping custody? It might be the best thing that could happen to him. Sure, he would suffer some professional embarrassment, and Dennis Palmer sure as hell would never give him any more work, or pass along another referral. But at least Joe would be able to sleep at night with a clear conscience.
The possibility began to appeal to him. So instead of a quick shower, he took a long, leisurely one, giving Jenn all the time in the world to collect her belongings, walk to a pay phone and call a cab, or catch a bus. He made plenty of noise as he came out of the shower, humming, brushing his teeth, gargling. When he could delay no further, he wrapped a towel around his hips, having forgotten to bring any clean clothes into the bathroom, and started to open the door.
His hand froze on the doorknob. This was the best opportunity to escape he’d ever given her. What if she really was gone? He would never see her or Cathy again. The realization hit him in the head like a runaway train. Had he let them go without even saying goodbye? How would he know if they were safe? A million things could happen to them on the road, and very few of them were good.
He almost couldn’t open the door, his dread was so great. Only the knowledge that he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever propelled him out of the steamy room.
They were there, lying on the bed exactly as he’d left them. Relief poured over Joe like a tidal wave. That was when he realized just how thoroughly this ragamuffin fugitive mom and her precocious child had gotten under his skin.
No, they’d done more than that. They’d stolen his heart.
He couldn’t just let them disappear from his life forever. Funny, he’d known them less than a week, but he couldn’t envision a life where he woke up without them close by. He didn’t want to go back to eating alone, and especially sleeping alone. Although he and Jenn hadn’t shared a bed, her nearness during the night had become something to look forward to, even if it was a tad uncomfortable at times.
He dug out his sweatpants and a T-shirt from his duffel, then pulled blankets and pillows off the second bed to make himself a pallet in front of the door. Maybe an answer would come to him in the night.
For Jenn, the states seemed to be flying by in a blur. From Sioux Falls they turned south on I-29. In close to an hour’s time they’d crossed into Iowa, hugging the western border on a course roughly parallel to the Missouri River. They flirted with Nebraska but never entered. In another three hours they reached the northwestern corner of Missouri, and they stopped at a diner near Kansas City International Airport for a late lunch.
Jenn could only pick at her hamburger. She didn’t know what to make of Joe’s moodiness. He’d been nearly silent all morning, except when he fired an occasional, seemingly pointless question at her about her past. But she had no doubt he was cogitating heavily about her situation, so she let him be.
“I have to make a few phone calls,” Joe said, rising from the table. “Y’all can order dessert if you want.”
Cathy, of course, took great delight in that announcement. She managed to flag down their waitress and order a hot fudge sundae. Jenn passed, as nothing sounded appetizing.
Joe hadn’t eaten much, either, Jenn noted. Every time she’d looked at him, he’d been staring off into space, lost in another world.
The longer he failed to come up with a reasonable course of action that would be both legal and safe, the more pessimistic she became. Months ago, she’d gone over every avenue and found them all clogged with roadblocks. Her only answer had been to flee. She hadn’t made the decision lightly. Running away had been a last resort.
But maybe, just maybe, she’d overlooked something.
“We’ll be staying at the home of a friend of mine tonight,” Joe announced casually as they climbed back into the car.
“Is that who you were calling?” J
enn asked..
“Mmm-hmm. He’s got a huge house on Lake of the Ozarks.”
“Sounds nice. You’ll save one night’s hotel bill, at least.”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to stop there. But there’s another. He’s a former sheriff’s deputy from Rhymer. We haven’t stayed in touch very well since his retirement, but he owes me a favor or two.”
“Does he like children?” Jenn asked worriedly. She didn’t want Cathy subjected to some mean old codger, even if it did mean saving Joe some money.
“He and his wife always have a houseful of kids—first his own, then some foster kids, and now grandkids. There will probably be someone there Cathy’s age she can play with. I imagine she gets pretty tired of being with adults all the time.”
Jenn knew Joe spoke the truth. It was one of the things Jenn had worried about. Cathy hadn’t had many friends her own age since they’d left Rhymer.
They abandoned the interstate in Kansas City and took a series of smaller highways toward the huge Lake of the Ozarks in central Missouri. The flat plains of Kansas gave way to rolling hills covered with trees set afire with brilliant fall foliage. They passed by farms and through small towns that epitomized middle America. Everything looked so wholesome and normal, in fact, that Jenn ached because she wasn’t part of it. Caught up in the drama of fleeing the law and living a lie, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to enjoy simple things—a county fair, a walk in the park, an ice cream cone.
As the sun set, dropping a layer of gilding onto the landscape, they were winding their way through the heart of the Ozark mountains. The peaks themselves weren’t like the intimidating, jagged Rockies or Cascades. They were smaller, softer, somehow friendlier. She didn’t remember them, so she must not have passed this way during her headlong northwestern flight across America.
