Fugitive Father

by Carla Cassidy

  It would have been nice if she could have come back here and found some sort of peace where he was concerned. If, despite their past relationship and the presence of Jackie, she could have left here in friendship with Reese. But she knew in her heart a friendship with him was impossible. Their emotions were still too intense—he still clung to his feelings of unworthiness and sense of betrayal and she couldn’t let go of her own hurt.

  “Mama, I’m all done with my picture.” Jackie crawled up on the sofa next to Sarah and held out her latest creation. “It’s all the people I like,” she explained. “Here’s you and Aunt Lindy.” She pointed to each figure. “And this is Anna and Mr. Sheriff.”

  Mr. Sheriff. He seemed to take up an enormous portion of the page. Jackie had gotten his dark hair color right, and his broad shoulders were in proportion to his long legs.

  What would Jackie say if she knew he was her father? What was Sarah eventually going to tell the little girl about Reese?

  “Do you like it?” Jackie asked eagerly.

  “It’s a wonderful picture,” Sarah answered softly, shoving aside the painful truths she would one day have to share with the little girl. “And now it’s bedtime.”

  A yawn stifled Jackie’s protest. “I am sort of tired,” she admitted.

  “You run on upstairs and I’ll be up to kiss you good-night in just a few minutes.” Together mother and daughter got up from the sofa. “I want to put your picture with the others on the fridge door.”

  Jackie nodded and ran up the stairs and Sarah went back into the kitchen, where Lindy was still struggling to finish papering one wall. “How’s it coming?” she asked as she placed Jackie’s picture under a colorful magnet on the refrigerator door.

  “It’s not,” Lindy said flatly. With a muttered curse she ripped off one of the pieces she’d just put up. In a fury she wadded it and tore it into pieces. “I can’t do this...I can’t do anything.” Her voice rose hysterically. “I’m just stupid...stupid!” She threw the paper aside and with a strangled cry ran out of the room and thundered up the stairs. Sarah sighed as she heard the distant sound of Lindy’s bedroom door being slammed. It worried her, these outbursts of anger that seemed to explode from nowhere.

  She took a few minutes and cleaned up the mess Lindy had made, hoping Lindy’s blowup had exhausted her enough so she would sleep for the rest of the night.

  Suddenly exhausted herself, Sarah turned out the kitchen light and headed up the stairs to kiss Jackie good-night, then go to bed herself.

  She found Jackie in bed, a frown furrowing her little forehead. “Is Aunt Lindy mad at us?” she asked worriedly.

  Sarah realized her daughter must have heard Lindy storming into her room. She sat down on the bed next to Jackie and smiled at her reassuringly. “No, honey, she’s not mad at us. Aunt Lindy just gets overexcited sometimes.” Sarah frowned, wondering how much a five-year-old could understand about Lindy’s condition. “Sometimes she gets real sad, and sometimes she gets really happy, and sometimes she just gets upset.”

  Jackie plucked her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Kind of like Mrs. Rosellini?”

  Sarah laughed. Mrs. Rosellini was the Italian woman who lived in the apartment next to theirs back in New York. “Kind of,” Sarah admitted. “Although it’s not quite the same.” She pulled the blanket up around Jackie’s shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

  She started to stand but hesitated as Jackie called to her. “What, sweetie?” she asked.

  “I like it here,” Jackie said softly. “Better than in New York.”

  “It is nice, isn’t it?”

  “Can’t we just stay here and never go back?”

  “Honey, we can’t do that. I have a job. I have to work.”

  “You could work for Anna.” Jackie’s eyelids drooped sleepily. “She says you’re the best damned waitress she ever had.”

  Sarah started to reprimand the little girl for her language, then paused, realizing she had fallen asleep. Placing another tender kiss on Jackie’s cheek, Sarah then turned off the light and softly closed the bedroom door behind her.

  As she went past Lindy’s bedroom she didn’t hear any noises from behind the closed door and hoped Lindy had fallen asleep. The ringing of the telephone split the silence and Sarah hurried into her mother’s bedroom and answered the phone by the side of the bed.

  “Sarah?”

  “Oh Ben, I’m so glad you called. I was going to try to get in touch with you later.”

  “Why? Is something wrong? How’s Lindy?”

  Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “She’s not good, Ben. Have you managed to get her an appointment yet?”

  “Not yet. Dr. Manning has been out of town for the last couple of days. His secretary has promised that he’ll call the moment he gets in.”

  “I don’t think we should wait,” Sarah replied.

  “I hate to force her to see somebody else.” Ben’s voice deepened. “She has such a good rapport with Dr. Manning. I expect to hear from him tomorrow, the next day at the latest. Can’t it wait another day or two?”

  Sarah sighed heavily, unsure what to do. “I don’t know, Ben,” she finally answered truthfully.

  “I just know Lindy hates any break in her normal routine and I hate to negate all the good that Dr. Manning has done with her in the past.”

  Sarah sighed again. “Okay, I suppose we can give him another day or two.”

  They spoke for a few minutes longer, most of the conversation Sarah answering questions about Lindy, then they hung up. Sarah went directly to the bathroom where she drew a tub of hot water. Minutes later she sank into the relaxing warmth.

  Ah, she could stay here forever, she thought, feeling tight muscles relaxing and a drowsy languor overtaking her. Unfortunately, the languor wasn’t numbing enough to completely erase thoughts of Jackie’s bedtime plea.

  Jackie wanted to stay in Clay Creek, and Sarah understood that desire. Jackie was in the process of developing friendships with Gladys Prather’s grandchildren. For the first time in her life, she was living in a house instead of an apartment, enjoying the freedom of playing in a yard instead of a city park. Yes, Sarah certainly understood her daughter’s desire to remain here.

  But we can’t, Sarah protested inwardly. Moving back here now would open up a whole new set of hurts and problems. Reese had made no move to develop any kind of a relationship with his daughter since they had been in town. Eventually Jackie would grow old enough to hear gossip, sense the secrets surrounding her paternity. Eventually she would start asking questions and demanding answers.

  Sarah sank lower in the water, feeling her neck muscles tightening with tension once again. How would Jackie handle the knowledge that Reese was her father biologically but was uninterested in being her father emotionally?

  Would things have been different had she stayed years ago when she’d discovered that she was pregnant? Would Reese and her relationship have survived had she told him she was going to have his baby? Had she made the correct decision by leaving? She didn’t know anymore. And in any case, it didn’t matter.

  She realized she was fooling herself. Whereas in the past she wouldn’t have considered making her home here because of the pain it might cause Jackie, she now knew there was another reason why she couldn’t move back. She didn’t think she herself was strong enough to see Reese every day, share the community life with him and know he would never be able to offer her what she really needed—love for Jackie and love for herself. She now realized she couldn’t move back because of her own emotional weakness where Reese was concerned.

  She sat up suddenly, aware the water had turned tepid around her. Besides, she was indulging in a useless form of torture by thinking about Reese and what would never be.

  As she dried off, she paused a moment, cocking her head. She thought she heard a noise drifting up from downstairs. She wrapped the towel around herself and opened the bathroom door, listening intently. Nothing. No
light radiated up from the darkness downstairs and she heard nothing else.

  Water gurgling down the pipes, ducts expanding from the heat of the furnace—the house was always full of night sounds, she thought as she put on her robe and belted it around her waist. Before going into her own bedroom, she checked on Jackie, then Lindy, relieved to find them both sound asleep.

  It took Sarah only minutes to change into her nightgown and crawl beneath the blankets of her bed. She smiled to herself, remembering the wintry nights when she was little and her mother would tuck her in, layering blankets on top of her that made movement difficult but kept her snug and warm. She wished her mother was here now to kiss her cheek, to reassure her that all was well. She wished her mother was here to tell her that she’d done the right thing six years before. With a sigh, Sarah closed her eyes.

  * * *

  The scream ripped through the silence of the night. Sarah bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding in inexplicable terror. She fumbled on the night table for the lamp and flipped the switch. A soft glow filled the room.

  She stumbled out of bed and to her doorway, pausing, wondering if the scream had really happened or had been part of a dream. She couldn’t remember any nightmares, but that didn’t mean that whatever had awakened her hadn’t been some figment of her sleep-fogged mind.

  She jumped as the shriek resounded again, her heart resuming its frantic beat. This time she recognized the scream. It was Jackie.

  She flew down the hallway to the little girl’s room, flipping on the light switch as she entered. Jackie met her, throwing herself into Sarah’s stomach, her shoulders heaving as she squealed in horror.

  “Jackie, honey, what’s wrong?” Sarah held the trembling child tight against her, looking around the room but seeing nothing amiss, nothing that accounted for Jackie’s obvious terror.

  “There was somebody in here, Mama. Somebody was in my room.” Jackie didn’t release her death grip on Sarah’s waist.

  “Honey, you must have been dreaming,” Sarah soothed, stroking her daughter’s hair gently.

  “No, it wasn’t a dream. Somebody was in here and they tried to choke me.” She was crying now, her shoulders shaking with childish sobs, sobs that were punctuated by a fit of harsh coughing.

  “Sweetheart, there’s nobody here. You just had a really bad dream.” Sarah reached down and picked Jackie up in her arms. Jackie immediately cuddled into her, hiding her face in the crook of Sarah’s neck. “Bad dreams are scary because sometimes they seem real.” She carried Jackie back over to the bed, rubbing her little back reassuringly, murmuring words of comfort.

  She started to place Jackie back on the bed, but the child clung more tightly to her. “Please, Mama, don’t go. Don’t leave me in here alone. Just hold me for a little longer.”

  Sarah sat down on the bed with Jackie on her lap. It must have been some dream, Sarah thought as she felt Jackie’s body still trembling. “My throat hurts,” Jackie said softly.

  “I’ll go get you a glass of water, maybe that will help,” Sarah replied. Jackie must be coming down with something and that was what had caused the bad dreams, she thought.

  “What’s going on?”

  Sarah turned to see Lindy standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “It’s all right. Jackie had a bad dream.”

  “You okay, pumpkin?” Lindy asked.

  “It wasn’t a dream. It was real,” Jackie whispered adamantly.

  “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you tucked back in and I’ll get you a glass of water.” Sarah moved Jackie off her lap and pulled down the blankets. When Jackie got back beneath the covers, Sarah smoothed her hair away from her forehead and smiled reassuringly. “It’s all right now. You’re safe...” Her voice trailed off as she leaned closer to her daughter. For the first time since coming into the bedroom, she looked at her daughter’s face. Jackie’s cheeks were tear-streaked, her eyes slightly swollen. Her nose was running from her crying. But what caused a shiver of terror to dance up Sarah’s spine was the red marks that were livid against Jackie’s pale skin—red marks that encircled her neck, marks that were already beginning to turn blue.

  “Lindy? Call Reese and get him out here,” she said tersely.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Somebody tried to choke Jackie. Please...just call him and tell him to get out here because somebody has been in the house.”

  As Lindy left to make the call, Sarah turned back to Jackie, who stared at her with huge, fear-filled eyes. “It’s okay, honey,” she tried to reassure her.

  “Is Mr. Sheriff going to come?” Jackie asked tremulously.

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, he should be here in just a few minutes.”

  “And he’ll keep us safe?”

  “Yes, he’ll keep us safe,” Sarah answered without hesitation. She pulled Jackie back into her arms, suddenly more frightened than she had ever been.

  Somebody had been in this room. Somebody had sneaked in here in the dead of night. Somebody had placed their hands around Jackie’s neck and squeezed, trying to choke the very life out of her. Thank God Jackie had managed to awaken and fight. Thank God she had managed to scream.

  Sarah had been scared when she’d thought it was her own life in danger, but that was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching terror that now swept through her veins.

  Somebody had tried to hurt Jackie. Somebody had tried to kill her baby.

  Chapter 10

  Reese drove faster than he’d ever driven in his life, his heart thudding with concern, fear and an incredible anger that choked in his throat and twisted his stomach.

  Lindy’s phone call had been vague, but she’d said enough for Reese to understand that somebody had been in the Calhoun house—somebody who’d apparently tried to hurt Jackie.

  His heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest and a roar resounded in his ears as he tore down the gravel road that lead to the Calhoun farmhouse. When he pulled up in front, all the lights in the house were on, including the spotlight that illuminated most of the property at the front. The barking dogs announced his arrival and he was met at the door by Sarah, her eyes huge and luminous with fear.

  “Oh, Reese, thank God you’re here,” she said. The distance he’d felt from her the day before was gone, swept away and replaced by the greater emotions of fear and need. For a moment he thought she was going to launch herself into his arms and he tensed expectantly. Instead she stiffened her shoulders and led him into the living room, where Lindy and Jackie sat on the sofa.

  “Hi, Jackie,” he said softly, relaxing slightly as he saw that she didn’t appear to have suffered any physical harm.

  “Hi, Mr. Sheriff,” she answered wanly. He sat down next to her. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but whatever it was, it had stolen Jackie’s sunny smile, and that in itself was criminal.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “Somebody tried to get me,” Jackie said soberly, her gray eyes widening. “They came into my room while I was sleeping and tried to choke me.”

  “Show Reese your neck, sweetheart,” Sarah prompted the little girl.

  Jackie tilted her head back and pulled down the collar of her nightgown, exposing her small neck to Reese’s gaze. “It hurts,” she said softly.

  As he saw the vivid marks, the bruised, tender flesh, a red haze of rage descended on him, for a moment obscuring any other thoughts.

  “Doc Burwell is on his way over. I thought he should take a look at her just to make sure she’s all right,” Sarah explained.

  Reese nodded. “And I’ve got Deputy Johnson coming. He’ll dust for prints and see what he can pick up.” He looked back at Jackie, his blood boiling.

  He’d been angry that somebody had tried to harm Sarah, but to think that someone had crept into a darkened bedroom and wrapped their hands around this innocent, helpless child’s neck—his child’s neck—

  He fought to keep his seat next to Jackie, taking a deep breath to steady his d
izzying rage. “Did you see what the person looked like?” he asked the little girl.

  Jackie shook her head. “It was too dark in the room. I was sleeping, and when they grabbed me and I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see anything. I just kicked real hard and screamed real loud and they ran away.”

  “Her screams woke me up, and when I went into her bedroom, I just assumed she’d had a bad dream,” Sarah explained.

  “So you didn’t see anything, either?”

  Sarah shook her head, a frown of frustration creasing her brow. “Nothing.”

  “When they ran away, which way did they go?” Reese asked Jackie.

  She frowned. “I’m not sure...but I guess out in the hallway.”

  “Was the window open? Any signs of entry?” He looked at Sarah.

  Again she shook her head. “Since we called you I’ve been through every room of the house, looked in every closet, but there’s no sign of anyone. Reese, what’s going on?”

  “I wish the hell I knew. Was the front door locked?”

  “Yes. For the past couple of nights I’ve been paying special attention to locking everything up.”

  He stood and pulled a flashlight from his back pocket. “I’m going to go outside and look around the house. You all stay in here.”

  Sarah walked him to the front door. “Reese...be careful,” she called after him as he went outside. He clicked on his flashlight as he began to walk around the perimeter of the house. He scanned for signs of an intruder—footsteps in the grass, a window screen pulled askew—but found nothing amiss.

  Why would somebody go after Jackie? What could possibly be the motive for trying to kill a five-year-old girl?

  One thing was certain—there was no way this could be chalked up to some strange sort of accident. It had been attempted murder and his blood chilled as he thought of what the outcome would have been had Jackie not managed to scream and waken Sarah.

  Never had he felt so incredibly helpless. Even though he knew he wasn’t the man to be a father to Jackie, paternal feelings he didn’t know he possessed reared up at the thought of somebody harming her.