The Hidden Years

by Susan Kearney

  “You didn’t attend the wedding?” Cassidy asked.

  Blake frowned. “I don’t think I was invited.”

  “Excuse me, sir—” Jake leaned forward “—but Doc recalled that you and Michael were tight. Isn’t it odd that he didn’t invite you?”

  Blake shrugged. “I got the impression…they were in a hurry. I thought maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” Jake tried to control his impatience. But after all these years, he wanted to know about his past. While he had had lots of company in the group homes over the years, most kids there had known way more about their families than he had. In fact, most of the kids kept hoping their real parents would come back for them. It rarely happened, since many parents were in jail or doing drugs. But hope had kept the others going. Jake knew his parents were dead, so finding his sisters had become his hope, his goal.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter after all these years.” Blake downed the rest of his drink. “And I’m not sure. But I thought maybe Mary Lou was in the family way.”

  “Why did you think that?” Cassidy asked.

  Blake held his glass out to Patty for a refill. She didn’t seem to mind waiting on her husband and stood to fetch him another drink.

  In the meantime, with knowing eyes, Blake studied Jake. “Does it bother you to consider that you may have been an accident? It shouldn’t. Birth control was iffy back then. Not everyone could use the pill.”

  “You think Michael Scott was my father?” Jake asked.

  “Don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here?” Blake took out a pipe but didn’t light it. “I quit smoking, but I miss having something between my teeth.”

  “The man I remember as my father went by the name of Steve Cochran, and he died in a car accident when I was five years old.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. I’ve never heard of Steve Cochran, but you look too much like Michael not to be his son. It’s not just your looks. It’s the fire in your eyes, the angle at which you hold your head, and if you don’t mind my saying so, the chip on your shoulder. Michael had one, too.”

  Jake ignored the remark about the chip on his shoulder. Other things didn’t add up. For one, Jake’s age. He wasn’t old enough to be the baby that Blake thought the couple might have conceived—Jake was too young by two years. Or maybe Blake was mistaken, and Mary Lou hadn’t been pregnant at all.

  Jake shifted in his chair. “What else can you tell me about Michael?”

  “He was wildly in love with Mary Lou Ellis. I can still remember his determination to win her. And the girl gave him a hard time. She didn’t want to marry.”

  “So you’re thinking she changed her mind and married Michael when she got pregnant?”

  “There’s another possibility here,” Cassidy said softly. Jake knew he wouldn’t like what she was about to say and braced himself. “Maybe your mother never married Michael. Maybe she married Steve. So the man you remember as your father may not be your biological father. And the man in your memories may be a stepdad.”

  Stunned at her suggestion, Jake looked out over the water, thinking of possibilities. If Cassidy’s version had happened, his biological father could still be alive. Although in all Jake’s searching, he’d never found a trace of Steve Cochran. Maybe he should have been looking for Michael Scott.

  His head hurt just thinking about the alternatives. After all, it was still an option that Mary Lou Ellis and Michael Scott had changed their names and become Janet and Steven Cochran.

  Jake took in a deep breath and released it. He’d come here searching for answers, and now he had more questions than before. And he still hadn’t the slightest idea who was after Cassidy and him. Or why.

  Over a pleasant dinner of ham, asparagus and creamed rice, Blake told them what he could recall about Michael Scott. Jake found none of the information helpful. College pranks, old dates and fraternity parties, even study habits, didn’t have much relevancy to the present. Still he filed away the information, hoping something might be of use. After dinner, Cassidy helped Patty clear the table, then they all drank coffee and ate some wonderful peach cobbler.

  As they said their goodbyes, Blake shook Jake’s hand. “I just thought of something. There was a woman, a friend of Mary Lou’s. Her name was Donna Rodale. You might look her up. Maybe Mary Lou confided her plans to her.”

  “Thank you for dinner. And the information.”

  As Jake and Cassidy left the house, Cassidy looked thoughtful. “Donna Rodale was the woman in the yearbook with her arm around Mary Lou. While we were—”

  “If she married and changed her name, we may have trouble finding her.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Blake interrupted, having overheard them as they walked to the car. “Donna Rodale was a lesbian.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “She flaunted her sexual preference. She was one of those rare women in ROTC. She wore her hair short and made no bones about the fact she was ready to fight and die, if necessary, for her country.” He shrugged. “Now Mary Lou was a feminine little gal. I always did think she and Donna were a strange pair.”

  “Thanks again, sir,” Jake said. As he escorted Cassidy toward the car, he spied a van parked across the street. It hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. All his senses went on alert.

  “Jake, while we were in the kitchen—”

  “Tell me in a minute.”

  Something in his peripheral vision glinted.

  He’d seen the reflection off a pair of glasses. Now that he looked more closely, he could see the shadows of two men hunched down in the bushes. Every muscle in his body tensed.

  Blake had walked back into his house and shut the front door. Cassidy was about to slide into the car’s front seat. If he could place her inside before the men revealed their presence, she would be more protected than out in the open. There was no time to warn her.

  A plan hatched in Jake’s head. A wild plan, but they didn’t have much choice if they didn’t want to be taken. He opened the car door for her and pushed the lock button down. “Get in and put on your seat belt, Sunshine.”

  “I always do,” she muttered, then looked at him oddly.

  Jake gave a minor shake of his head, but he couldn’t guarantee she’d picked up his signal not to argue. And he couldn’t warn her of the danger lurking nearby without letting the hiding men know they’d been seen.

  Jake started to whistle, hoping he might convince everyone that he was relaxed and unaware of their presence. To put his plan into action, he had to time his movements perfectly.

  He didn’t get the time he needed. Just as he shut Cassidy’s door, the men rushed him, weapons drawn.

  Jake spun around, taking them by surprise. He kicked the weapon from the first man’s hand, then lunged forward, driving the man backward into his partner. Both his opponents stumbled and fell to the pavement. Jake fell on top of both men, who were unable to fight effectively since he’d forced one to fall on top of the other. Jake used his fists, knees and elbows to land several stunning blows.

  In the dim moonlight, Jake saw blood streak down one man’s face. “We weren’t going to—”

  “Who are you guys?” Jake demanded without much hope of receiving an answer. “Why are you following us?”

  When the man didn’t respond, Jake took advantage of the opportunity he’d created and scooped up the second man’s gun. He aimed it at the men. Jake reached into one of the downed men’s pocket and pulled out his wallet, hoping he might discover their identities.

  Quickly he backed toward the car as he aimed the weapon at them. At least they had the sense not to move.

  Cassidy had his door open for him, and as he slipped into his seat, the injured men rolled away from the front of his vehicle, no doubt fearing he’d run them over. Jake wasn’t worried about the men on the ground, but about the others he could see in the van. The fight had started and ended within seconds, and the people in the van had yet to react. Jake glanced in the rearview mirror. The guys in the
van across the street wore headsets. Disconnecting the apparatus had slowed them down. They’d been unprepared to rush in and help, but the two men in front of him were staggering to their feet and one was still armed.

  Once again Jake realized that these men were no ordinary criminals. They operated like pros, as if they worked for the same secret government agency. But he had no time for further speculation. Jake started the engine, threw the car into reverse. Hard.

  “Cassidy, hold on.”

  “Get us out of here.”

  Jake slammed his foot on the gas, backing the car quickly. He deliberately rammed the van across the street, bracing himself with the steering wheel and praying the seat belt would protect Cassidy from the worst of the collision.

  Their car smashed the van from an angle but almost exactly over the van’s rear wheels. Windows shattered and tiny pieces of glass flew. Metal screeched and tore.

  Before the car had even rocked forward, Jake shifted the car into gear and started away. He took an extra few seconds to aim and fire his gun at one of the van’s tires. He didn’t want these men coming after them. Jake put a second bullet in another tire, guessing they wouldn’t have two spares. That should buy Cassidy and him some getaway time.

  He suspected he would have control of the situation for only another minute. He wished he’d had time to search the van and interrogate these men, but he already heard the wail of police sirens in the distance.

  Driving away, he pushed the pedal to the floor. “Get down, Sunshine.”

  “I got the van’s license-plate number.”

  “Good.” Relief washed over him that she was okay. She had to be if she’d been thinking clearly enough to realize they could trace the plate.

  Now all they had to do was avoid the cops, who would consider their “accident” a hit-and-run. At least no one had been killed—Jake didn’t think so, anyway. He’d never checked to see if the men in the van had survived, since the two who’d attacked him were back on their feet and running toward them.

  He couldn’t think about that now. Their car had two damaged taillights, and within minutes every Duval County policeman would have a description of their car’s make and model. They had to ditch it fast, before a cop spotted them.

  They couldn’t just run; they also had to cover their tracks.

  “Jake?”

  “Hold on, Sunshine. I’ve got to think.”

  “While you were talking to Blake, Patty and I were in the kitchen taking the cobbler out of the oven, and we looked up Donna Rodale’s address.

  “How?”

  “In the Yellow Pages on the Internet.”

  He hung a right turn, heading for the highway. “Okay.”

  She should have checked with him first. If their pursuers examined the history on the Saunderses’ computer, they would know exactly where he and Cassidy were headed. However, Jake kept his concerns to himself. Cassidy was holding up remarkably well under the circumstances. She’d been trying to help. And she wasn’t accustomed to covering her tracks.

  “Donna Rodale lives in Boca Raton.”

  “Okay. We’ll have to get there first.”

  “Is it a race?” Cassidy’s voice sounded weak. Jake wanted to stop and check her, but he didn’t dare stop driving. Every minute was critical.

  He headed north, and when he spied a marina, he pulled through the open gate, shut off the lights and turned to Cassidy. Jake kept the small interior light on and took his first good look at Cassidy.

  Blood trickled from her forehead down her temple over her cheek to her chin. Jake started to reach for her when a movement outside the car stopped him.

  Now what?

  Had their pursuers a third vehicle that Jake hadn’t seen? Could they have planted a bug in their car and followed?

  Out of the darkness, a man came up and aimed a flashlight into the car.

  Chapter Ten

  “You folks having some trouble? Want me to call an ambulance or the police?”

  Cassidy winced as the bright flashlight shone in her eyes and decided to leave the talking to Jake. He was the master at this cloak-and-dagger business. She wondered what kind of dangers he’d encountered during the past ten years for him to have the skills he had. She imagined his work environment was very different from the clean and bright office where she practiced law and people lived by the rules.

  While she’d been terrified of the two men who had come at them out of nowhere, Jake had acted with machinelike efficiency. Not only had he honed his skills to a precision that frightened her, he must have antifreeze in his veins, as well as his heart.

  She could see the security guard gazing at Jake with suspicion, the patch on his uniform shiny in the reflection of his flashlight. Jake didn’t appear to have a hair out of place. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. And she was sure he would concoct some story to get them out of this situation.

  “We’ve had a little problem, and we can’t go to the police,” Jake told the man. “Do you have a first-aid kit around? I can pay you for your trouble.”

  “What kind of problem?” the security guard asked suspiciously.

  “We were in an automobile accident.”

  “You drunk?”

  “No, sir. But we’re on the run.”

  “Who’s after you?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. We’d like to know ourselves. We think whoever is after us has connections with the police.”

  “I should turn you in…but I won’t.” Although the man’s voice was gruff, Cassidy wasn’t surprised when he motioned them with his flashlight. Jake had a way about him that inspired confidence, even from strangers.

  “Appreciate it.” Jake tried to hand the guard some money, but the man refused with a shake of his head.

  “Hide the car behind the shop. And then let’s clean the blood from the lady’s face and get some ice on the bruise.”

  She barely recalled banging her head when they’d crashed into the van, but it hurt now that she thought about it. Ice would be welcome. And Jake, a man who didn’t trust anyone, seemed willing to take the man at his word.

  “Jake, how do you know you can trust him?”

  “He’s wearing a prison tattoo. It’s unlikely he has a great love of the law.”

  Jake parked and the guard led them to a trailer. The air-conditioning didn’t quite keep up with the heat outside. The furniture was dusty, the couch sagged and an open bottle of cheap whiskey led Cassidy to believe the man might have troubles of his own. While the trailer had seen better days, the medical kit the guard handed Jake was well stocked.

  She couldn’t help wondering what kind of man helped strangers who admitted they were avoiding the police. The guard’s face looked hard, his eyes sad. As he picked up a cat and petted it, he didn’t seem at all worried about the law.

  After washing his hands at the sink, Jake used clean gauze to wash Cassidy’s cut, then applied antiseptic cream and a butterfly bandage to her forehead. As his fingers worked efficiently and gently on her flesh, she avoided his gaze, afraid she might see tenderness there and afraid she wouldn’t.

  Jake peered at her head, admiring his handiwork. “It’s not too bad. Head wounds can bleed a lot. You dizzy or nauseous?”

  She accepted an ice pack from the guard. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You won’t stay fine if you take to the road again in that car.” The guard pointed out the obvious.

  Jake snapped the first-aid kit closed and handed it back to the guard. “You have any suggestions?”

  “Where you headed?” the guard asked, then held up his hand, palm out. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He scratched his bald head a minute. “You could leave here by boat.”

  “Too slow,” Jake told him.

  Cassidy recalled Jake’s remark about getting to Boca first and wondered at the rush. But she didn’t want to ask questions. Because somehow whoever was trailing them would eventually find this place and ask questions. So the less she said that
could be repeated, the better. Slowly she was learning to hide her tracks, and she wondered how much she would change before this was all over.

  Would she become hard like Jake? Would she become suspicious of everyone? Cassidy hoped not.

  Jake peered intently out the window, no doubt reassuring himself they hadn’t been followed. “Is there a private airstrip around here with a pilot I could hire?”

  “You ain’t running drugs?”

  “Nope.” Jake faced the guard, his arms open wide as if to show he had nothing to hide. “The pilot can check our luggage. We’ll be carrying nothing illegal. And I’m willing to pay cash for his trouble.”

  “Her trouble,” the guard corrected. “I know a lady who might help you out if the price is right. I’ll call her, then leave you alone. I don’t need to hear the arrangements.”

  As good as his word, the guard dialed, then handed the phone to Jake. Jake thanked him and waited for the trailer door to shut behind the guard before naming their destination and setting a price that included being picked up from the marina and driven to the private airstrip.

  The arrangements were made within two minutes. Jake counted out ten hundred-dollar bills and left them on the table under the whiskey bottle for the guard.

  Anxious to be moving on, Jake held out a hand to Cassidy. “We’re all set. Let’s go.”

  His touch was perfunctory, no different from when he’d bandaged her head. Most likely he feared she might faint on him. But her forehead barely stung, thanks to his ministrations and the ice pack. Still, she appreciated the support.

  Jake ditched their smashed-up car in a canal that led to the coastal waterway. The canal had been dredged, and hopefully the car wouldn’t be seen when the tide went out.

  Fifteen minutes later, the female pilot had escorted them to a small plane and they were in the air. All business, the woman didn’t say much, except to demand cash payment up front.

  After Jake took care of business, Cassidy slipped into the back seat behind the pilot and gave Jake the copilot’s seat. The weather was great, no wind, no stormy weather on radar. The lights from the ground shone clear and bright. But Cassidy had a premonition that they were heading into more trouble than they’d left behind.