Nowhere to Run

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Do the best you can,” Salazar said to Emily, interrupting Jim’s thoughts. “Don’t say or do anything different from what you would normally say or do. It won’t help to get him suspicious.”

  “I’ll ask Delmore to take us for a sail,” Jim said. “I’ll do it when he comes to pick you up tonight, after you introduce him to me, okay?”

  Emily nodded, her blue eyes flashing in his direction.

  God, he could see wariness in her eyes every time she so much as glanced his way. It had been stupid of him to hold her in his arms like that, down at the beach. What was he, some kind of idiot? Had he really thought that Emily would want comfort from him? Yeah, she’d want that about as much as she’d want a pink slip along with her next paycheck.

  The truth was, he’d wanted an excuse to touch her. He’d wanted to run his fingers through her hair…wanted to feel her body pressed against his. He’d wanted to kiss her. God, he still wanted to kiss her. And she knew it now, too.

  Perfect, Keegan, he thought. Just perfect. She was under a ton of stress, and here he was, making it worse for her.

  The doorbell rang. Jim glanced at his watch. It was only quarter to four. They had nearly three hours before Delmore was due to arrive.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Emily stood up, uncertainly eyeing the door. “It could be Alex. He dropped by yesterday without calling first.”

  Salazar got to his feet, too, as the bell chimed again.

  “Phil, get out of sight,” Jim told the other detective. “Go down the hall, into Emily’s bedroom. If it is Delmore, we don’t want him to see you.”

  Salazar nodded and vanished down the hall. The bell rang again, this time twice in rapid succession.

  “You want me to get it?” Jim asked.

  Emily shook her head and went toward the door. Her heart was pounding as she opened the door.

  “Thank God you’re home.”

  Jim looked over Emily’s shoulder at the painfully skinny young woman standing in the doorway. She had long red hair and the kind of pale complexion that burned almost instantly in the hot Florida sunshine. She also had one hell of a black eye, and a grubby little boy, probably around three years old, with matching red hair and big, solemn eyes, clinging to her hand.

  The woman looked up at Jim, and the relief faded from her face, replaced by shuttered reservation. She was clutching a brown paper shopping bag filled with clothing and baby toys. A dingy yellow Big Bird doll peeked out of the top.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “You got company, don’t you?”

  “Jewel,” Emily said. “What happened? Who hit you? Please, come in.”

  Jim stepped back as Emily took the younger woman by the elbow and pulled her gently into the apartment. The redheaded woman was younger than he’d first thought, no more than a girl, really. She was pretty in an old-fashioned, Victorian way—or at least she would be if she washed off the layer of dust and grime that covered her, and maybe smiled a little. She had aristocratic features—a long, elegant nose, delicate lips, a graceful, if dirty, neck. She was eyeing him with distrust, and he smiled at her. Her expression didn’t change.

  “Jewel, this is…my brother, Dan,” Emily said, her eyes meeting Jim’s briefly in acknowledgment of her lie. “Dan, this is Jewel Hays. She’s a former student of mine.” She ruffled the hair of the little boy who still clutched Jewel’s hand. “And this is her son, Billy.” She turned her full attention to the girl. “Are you all right?”

  Jewel shook her head no. “I’m in big trouble,” she said, her gaze skittering toward Jim and then back to Emily. “Can we talk…in private?”

  Emily nodded. “Why don’t you come into the bathroom? We can get you cleaned up,” she said. She looked at Jim. “Will you keep an eye on Billy?”

  “He’s hungry,” Jewel said, looking down at the little boy. “He hasn’t had nothing to eat since night before last.”

  “I’ll get him some food,” Jim said.

  “Thanks,” Emily said. “I’m not sure what I have that he’d like…”

  “I’ll improvise,” Jim said. “We’ll be fine.”

  As she led Jewel toward the bathroom, Emily glanced back to see the tiny little boy tipping his head to look way, way up at Jim.

  EMILY CAME INTO the living room to find Billy, perched atop several telephone books, sitting at her dining table, finishing up a sandwich—peanut butter and jelly on pita bread, the only bread she’d had in the house. Jim was sitting across from him, and Felipe Salazar was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

  “Hey, guys, how’s it going in here?” Emily said, smiling brightly for Billy’s benefit.

  “He’s eating his second sandwich,” Jim said. He smiled, too, but his eyes were full of questions. What was going on? Why the hell hadn’t this kid been fed before this?

  “I need your help,” Emily said, looking from Jim to Felipe and back again.

  Jim stood up. “Why don’t we go out onto the deck and talk?” he said. He looked at Salazar. “Stay with the kid, okay?”

  “No!” Billy looked up at Jim, his eyes wide. “Don’t go!”

  To Emily’s surprise, Jim crouched down next to Billy’s chair, so that he was at eye level with the child. “Hey, Bill,” he said, “I’m just gonna be out there on the deck. You’ll be able to see me through the window, okay?”

  The little boy was not convinced.

  “And your mom’s in the shower,” Jim continued. “She’ll be out soon, and then maybe you can take a bath. In the meantime, what do ya say you and my friend Felipe here go into the living room and see if you can find a good cartoon to watch on TV?”

  Billy looked at Salazar. “He’s your friend?” he asked.

  “My best friend,” Jim said. “So be nice to him, okay?”

  Billy nodded.

  “Great,” Jim said. “I’ll be right outside, Bill, if you need me.”

  He opened the sliding glass door, and Emily followed him out onto the deck. She’d thought Jim would be absolutely lost when it came to taking care of Billy. But he knew just the right way to talk to the little boy. He spoke to him as if he were an equal. He didn’t talk down to the child at all.

  “Do you deal with children very often?” she asked, closing the door behind her so that Billy couldn’t hear their conversation.

  Jim leaned his elbows against the wooden railing, looking out over the courtyard. “Not so much these days, no,” he said.

  “You were great with him,” Emily said. “You know, I’ve never even heard Billy speak before. I didn’t know he could.”

  “He told me someone named Uncle Hank hit his mother,” Jim said, turning to look at her.

  Emily swore softly.

  “What’s going on?” Jim asked.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “This is way out of my league.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Emily took a deep breath. “Okay. When Jewel got pregnant, her parents sent her here, from their farm in Alabama. She was supposed to live with her aunt until she came to term, and then give the baby up for adoption. When the time came and the baby was born, she refused. Her parents wouldn’t let her come home, so she and the baby—Billy—ended up staying on with the aunt, who isn’t exactly a pillar of the community. Jewel picked up some nasty habits from the woman. She got addicted to crack, and started hooking to support her addiction. Apparently—and this is something I didn’t know before today—her good old uncle Hank is quite the little pimp.”

  “Damn…” Jim breathed.

  “Exactly,” Emily said, anger making her eyes seem an even darker shade of blue. “Jewel’s been in and out of rehab at least three times in the past two years. She just got out, again, a few days ago. Guess what Uncle Hank gave her as a homecoming present?”

  “You mean, besides the black eye?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Besides the black eye.”

  She reached into the pocket of her shorts and
took out three little glass vials. Crack. It was crack.

  Jim swore. “That son of a bitch—”

  “He wanted her to start walking the streets again,” Emily said. “I guess he figured the easiest way to get her to do that was to make sure she stayed dependent on the drugs.” Her fingers clenched tightly around the vials. “Do you know how hard it is for an addict to stay clean? Especially right out of rehab? Jewel couldn’t bring herself to throw this stuff away, she just couldn’t do it. She wanted it. But she was strong enough to come here and ask for help.”

  She sagged, sitting down on one of the deck chairs. “I’ve been trying to help this girl for years,” she said. “I knew her home situation was bad, but this is…awful. She’s got to get out of there. Permanently. But she says she’s got nowhere else to go. She refuses to press charges—she thinks that she’ll lose Billy if the police and the social services department get involved. I honestly don’t know what to do.” She stared down at the vials in her hand. “I don’t even know how to dispose of this. Do I flush it down the toilet, or will it contaminate the water? What do I do?”

  Jim held out his hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  With relief, Emily gave him the drugs. “Thanks.”

  He sat down on the chair, next to her. “Em, you can’t let her stay here. You can’t take on that responsibility.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I certainly can’t send her home.”

  “I’m not telling you to do that,” Jim said quietly. “Maybe there’s some kind of halfway house or shelter—”

  “She’s tried that,” Emily said. “All the places she’s contacted won’t let her bring Billy along. She’d have to have him placed in foster care. And that’s unacceptable to her.”

  Jim nodded, looking out at the crystal blueness of the apartment complex’s swimming pool. “He’s a sweet kid,” he said.

  “What am I going to do, Jim?”

  Jim. She’d called him Jim. Not Detective. Jim. He took a deep breath, letting it slowly out. “Let me talk to Phil, okay?” he said. “Maybe he’s got some ideas. He grew up in this city, he’s got all kinds of connections. We’ll try to find a place for her to go, Emily.”

  She was looking at him, looking searchingly into his eyes, with the oddest expression on her face.

  “What?” he said.

  She shook her head and stood up. “You’re not supposed to be so nice,” she said as she opened the sliding door and went back into the apartment.

  Not supposed to—? What the hell did that mean?

  WHEN EMILY WENT into the living room, Jewel and Felipe Salazar were sitting on the couch, with Billy between them.

  Jewel’s hair was still wet from her shower, and she was wearing Emily’s spare bathrobe—a white terry-cloth robe that enveloped her slight frame and went all the way down to the floor.

  Felipe was smiling, and Jewel’s cheeks were slightly flushed as she smiled shyly back and answered the detective’s gentle questions. It was heartrending to see that this girl, who was so experienced in many ways, was socially inexperienced, even shy.

  “Phil, got a minute?” Jim called from the door to the deck.

  With one last smile at Jewel and a murmured request to be excused, Felipe joined Jim outside.

  Jewel looked up at Emily and smiled.

  “Feeling better?” Emily asked, sitting down across from her in the rocking chair.

  Jewel nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Do you have any clean clothes?”

  The girl’s smile faded. “No. I only had time to grab some of Billy’s things before we left.”

  “I’ll lend you something of mine,” Emily said. “And I think I’ve got some things that shrank in the dryer. A couple of T-shirts, some sweatpants, stuff like that. They’re too small for me now. You can have them.”

  “Thanks.” Jewel looked toward the big glass door that led onto the deck. The two men were standing out there, talking seriously. “Felipe says he’s a friend of yours,” she said.

  Emily smiled, thinking Your friend, the neighborhood police officer. “Sure,” she said. “I guess you could say he’s a friend.”

  Jewel glanced back at the men on the deck. “He’s cute,” she said.

  Emily looked out at Felipe Salazar. He was good-looking, with his easy smile, his exotic high cheekbones and his dark, chocolate-brown eyes. He was, as usual, impeccably dressed in a dark suit. His shirt and tie were the same color as his suit, and the effect was striking.

  “He told me Billy was such a nice little boy, I must be a real good mother,” Jewel said, and blushed.

  Felipe had managed to totally captivate Jewel Hays, Emily realized with a smile. He was charismatic and handsome. And his kindness seemed genuine. Emily might have been attracted to him herself, if…

  If what? If she didn’t already have a boyfriend? She didn’t have a boyfriend. She’d stopped thinking of Alex in those terms the night she overheard his conversation with Vincent Marino.

  So how come she didn’t find Felipe Salazar attractive? Her gaze moved almost involuntarily from Felipe to Jim. She could still feel the way Jim’s arms had felt around her when he held her on the beach. She could still see that look in his eyes as he’d bent his head to kiss her….

  Jim looked up and through the glass of the door into the living room, directly at Emily. Their eyes met.

  The connection was instantaneous, and so strong Emily almost gasped out loud.

  Instead, she looked away.

  But she’d answered her question. The reason she didn’t find Felipe Salazar attractive—or any other man, for that matter—was that she was still tied to the past. To James Keegan, to be exact.

  He was an insensitive, selfish, uncaring man…who had a special way with little kids. He was a heart-breaker…who sometimes seemed to have a heart of gold.

  Emily had opened her house to Jim, thinking his presence would give her a clear view of the awful person he really was. And, sure, he’d given her instances of imperfect behavior to focus on. But he’d also shown her that he could be alarmingly kind, which left his bad-guy image extremely obscure and undefined.

  The sliding glass door opened, and the two men came inside.

  Jim sat down on the couch next to Jewel. “Emily told me about the trouble you’re in,” he said, coming straight to the point. “She says you need a place to stay.”

  Jewel nodded silently.

  Felipe came farther into the room. “I know of a place in my neighborhood, a kind of a shelter, that might have room for you and Billy,” he said. “I have time to take you over there now, if you would like.”

  The wariness was back in Jewel’s eyes. “What if they don’t?” she asked. “Have room for us, I mean.”

  Felipe smiled gently. “Then I will find you someplace else to stay,” he said. He glanced at Jim. “I have a friend whose apartment is empty right now—but that would be a last resort, of course.”

  “Come on, Jewel,” Emily said, heading toward the bedroom. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

  But Jewel didn’t move. “Why are you helping me?” she asked the two men. “What do you want in return? ’Cause I know nothin’s free,” she added flatly.

  “Jewel—” Emily started to protest.

  Jim stopped her. “No, she’s right,” he said. “Nothing comes for free.” He turned to Jewel. “You’ve got to stay clean—no drugs, no alcohol. And that’s the easy part. You live in the shelter, you don’t just sit around, watching TV, sponging off the state. You either enter a program to get your GED, or you take vocational classes, learn a trade.”

  “What I meant was, what do you get?” Jewel said.

  “Jewel, I am a police detective,” Felipe said. “I will get the satisfaction of knowing that I will not have to bust you someday.”

  The girl’s eyes were wide. “You’re the man?”

  Felipe nodded. “Yes.”

  “Come on, Jewel,” Emily said gently. “Let’s find you some clothes
, and get Billy into the tub.”

  AT SIX O’CLOCK, Emily returned from Carly’s apartment with the dress she had borrowed for tonight’s date with Alex. The dress was blue, scattered with sequins, way too tight and much too short. But, it had the distinct advantage of not being the same dress she’d worn to the last country club function to which Alex had taken her. Holding it up on the hanger, it looked more like a blue tube of crinkly material with spaghetti straps than a dress.

  “Do you and your friend borrow clothes from each other all the time?” Jim asked when she came back inside.

  He was sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper, with his feet up on the coffee table. He’d changed back into his shorts, and his feet were bare. He looked entirely too comfortable sitting there. He was far too at home.

  “I only have two formal dresses,” Emily said. “I wore them both last week, and I can’t afford to buy another. My budget’s strained as it is.” She made a face as she looked at the dress she’d borrowed from Carly. “Unfortunately, Carly’s tastes aren’t very conservative. On top of that, she’s shorter than me.”

  Jim pulled his feet off the table, folded the newspaper and put it down. “Won’t Delmore buy you clothes? He’s got more money than God.”

  Emily crossed her arms. “I’m not Alex’s mistress, Detective.”

  Jim looked up at her. “I know,” he said. “Actually, my sources tell me that you were on track to become Mrs. Delmore. The whole town is predicting a Christmas wedding.”

  Emily laughed. “Then they’re going to be disappointed, aren’t they?”

  She turned to go down the hall toward her bedroom, but his words stopped her.

  “You could’ve looked the other way, and half of everything Delmore has could’ve been yours,” Jim said. “You never would’ve had to borrow someone else’s dress, ever again.”

  He was serious. He was sitting there, looking up at her, his eyes intense and devoid of any humor or teasing.

  Emily laughed again. It was a small, mirthless sound. “You never did get to know me very well, did you?”