She’d had a few drinks, and he should have insisted on driving. Why had she even told him about the child in the first place if she’d intended to get rid of it? Because that was the way Rebecca operated. She found your sore spot and cut away at it with a rusty, serrated blade, hoping to inflict the maximum amount of pain. He’d made no secret of the fact that he’d wanted a child.
He’d been so angry, ready to kill her for what she’d done so callously. He’d almost refused to get into the car with her, but unlike her, the last thing he’d wanted was to make a scene in public. She’d loved any and all publicity, and while his name frequently appeared in the press, he’d liked to keep his private life private.
He’d asked for a divorce the minute she’d pulled out onto the street. She’d laughed at him in that heartless way she had. He’d never forget her words or the venom in her voice.
“I’ll divorce you when I’m good and ready, not a minute sooner. Being married to the famous Nico Antoni is still good for my career. When you’re no longer an asset, I’ll throw you to the wolves, but I promise, when I do, there’ll be precious little left of your fortune or your career. When I’m done with my toys, they’re only fit for the garbage. Ask Laura.”
“You bloody bitch!” he’d cried, “I’ll see you in hell before you’ll get anything. I’ll call my lawyer in the morning.”
She’d thrown her head back and laughed, taking her eyes off the road. She hadn’t seen the truck crossing the median, heading straight toward them. He’d yelled, but it had been too late. Rebecca was dead. And he was blind.
He blinked his sightless eyes, the familiar sadness that came with memories of Rebecca and his unborn child were held at bay by the warmth and softness of the woman in his arms. Rebecca and the unknown child were gone — dead and buried. Misty was alive and breathing in his arms. Micah had indicated that she might still be mourning Trent, but she had Debbie to console her, and he’d make sure that when she was ready to let another man into her life, it would be him. He’d do whatever he could for them now to earn her friendship and gratitude. As soon as he could, he’d take the relationship to the next level. For the first time in a long time, he felt free.
• • •
Misty enjoyed the feel of Nick’s strong arms around her and wished she could stay cradled this way forever. Unfortunately, reality would not be denied. The sight of the white clapboard clinic building sent a surge of guilt and shame through her. When she’d bought her house, the building inspector had suggested a thorough electrical investigation, but money had been tight, and everything in the house had seemed okay. Charlotte had mentioned dimming lights, and Misty had figured it was a problem with the grid, brownouts or something similar. The electrical panel in the basement looked new, so she’d dismissed it. Hindsight told her that had been a serious error in judgment.
As soon as Micah parked the vehicle, Misty opened the car door, got out, and ran toward the building without looking back. Her baby was in there. What if she’d been hurt? What kind of mother was she to expose her daughter to danger like that?
Why hadn’t she taken the time to turn off the light? Because she’d wanted to impress a man who would never see the result of her primping. Guilt assailed her, and her eyes filled with tears. Was it too much to want to be safe and happy?
Her tears started to fall as Misty approached the building. She stepped on the sensor, and the doors swished open. Standing beside the desk, a stethoscope draped around her neck, Laura looked up at the sound.
“Where is she?” Misty cried, all her anguish pouring into the three words.
“Calm down, Misty. She’s fine. Charlotte got them out of her house in plenty of time. She breathed in a little smoke, but her lungs are clear. She’s sound asleep. I’m not even sure the girls understand what happened, but they certainly enjoyed the ride in the police car. That’s all they could talk about. Come on. I’ll take you back to the ward where you can see for yourself that she’s fine. Dry your eyes first, though; she’ll get upset if she wakes up and sees you looking like this. You’re exhausted. I think I’ll prescribe a sedative so you can get some sleep. It isn’t a five-star hotel, but the beds are new. There’s nothing you can do until tomorrow anyway. Now, follow your doctor’s orders like a good girl.”
Laura led Misty to the large, open ward where two of the six beds were occupied. Her tiny, four-year-old daughter was sound asleep with her unicorn and blanket, and Misty could smell the lingering aroma of smoke on them. Beside her was another little girl with a dark complexion and curly black hair. Charlotte sat in the rocker near the beds.
“I let her keep her blanket and toy even though they smell smoky. The odor isn’t any stronger than it would be if she’d been at a campfire. I didn’t want to traumatize her.” Misty nodded her thanks. The last thing she needed was Debbie in a panic because Hornakin was missing, and she couldn’t find Green Blankie.
Charlotte stood up and came over to Misty, who reached out to her friend. The statuesque woman in her late twenties was pale despite her café-au-lait skin. Her dark brown eyes filled with tears, and Misty felt guilty for having put her friend through this.
“Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry. I didn’t turn out the light in the upstairs bathroom. The fire is my fault.” She hugged her. “Thank you so much for looking after Debbie; it could have been so much worse. Do you know what happened?” She was afraid to learn the truth, but even more afraid of not knowing it. If she had caused the fire, they were still safe; if not …
“I don’t know,” Charlotte answered, confusion and compassion warring in her voice. “I’d put the girls to bed around eight and had gone downstairs to my sewing room on the other side of the house to work on that new quilt. After a while, I noticed that my eyes seemed to sting, and when I went into the hall, I smelled smoke. Misty, I almost died inside; I thought it was my house on fire! I raced up the stairs into the girls’ room. When I looked over at your place, there were flames and all kinds of smoke, but the fire wasn’t upstairs, it was on the main floor. I thought it had started at the back of the house — maybe in the kitchen.”
“You must be wrong; it must just have looked like it was downstairs. I didn’t even cook tonight; I brought home pizza. It doesn’t matter.”
She couldn’t deal with this now. She needed to talk to Amos. Charlotte had to have misread the situation. The fire could have started in the ceiling walls, run between the floor and the wall. She’d seen enough movies and television to know fire sometimes behaved strangely. “You’re all safe, and that’s what matters. I have insurance, and stuff can always be replaced.” She’d replaced enough things over the past four years to know that was truer than most people realized.
The only things that couldn’t be replaced were her photographs. She’d kept one of her parents hidden in the bottom of her drawer. Those of Debbie’s early years, other than a few she’d given Beryl, were gone for good. Everything else had been provided by Amos and the FBI when she’d assumed this identity. Amos could probably get a reprint of the picture with herself and Trent. She intended to let Debbie grow up believing Trent, a war hero, had been her father instead of Kevin, a mob enforcer who’d been killed in a failed robbery attempt. She’d live with the truth, but her daughter didn’t have to. Amos and Beryl were quite content to let the lie stand.
Maybe we’re still safe. Maybe it was an accident. Please let it have been an accident, she prayed.
Laura came back into the room with a set of scrubs and handed them to Misty. The tall, lithe blonde looked more like a fashion model than a doctor, and Misty wondered how she could consider herself unattractive. She’d heard her say more than once that while Rebecca had been the beauty in the family, she’d settled for being the brain.
“Here, put these on, and you can use that bed,” Laura said, pointing to the bed next to Debbie. “Charlotte, you should get some sleep, too. Micah and Nick hav
e gone to the fire scene, and then I think Micah is taking Nick home before coming back here for me. If you’re still awake when he gets back, you can talk to him. If not, someone will be by with news in the morning. As I said, it’s out of your hands now. Misty, I want you to take this.” She handed her a tiny white pill. “It’s just a mild sedative, but you’re wound up tighter than a watch spring and need to relax. Get some rest.” She turned and left the room.
Misty swallowed the tiny tablet. Charlotte had climbed into the bed across from Christy’s and settled herself under the covers. Misty changed into the scrubs and folded her clothes, leaving them on the table beside her bed. They were the only garments she owned now. At least they were almost new. It wasn’t the first time she’d had nothing but the clothes are her back, but she heartily hoped it would be the last. She looked across the room and saw that Charlotte was already asleep. She envied people who could do that. Even with the sleeping pill, she doubted she’d get much rest.
Thank goodness it was spring break. School was closed all next week. She’d have to call in tomorrow, but she had vacation time coming to her, so she wouldn’t lose any pay. At least it would give her time to get organized. There weren’t many places to live in Pine Falls, and she didn’t want to leave town, not unless it was absolutely necessary.
She’d called Amber as promised. Her friend had reiterated her offer to have them move in with her for the time being, and Misty promised to consider it. She supposed if they had no other options they could move in there, but her friend had two dogs who ruled the roost, and a rather large fiancé. Misty liked Jeff, who was playing the role of Jesus, but she wasn’t a fan of doggy breath. Amber only had two bedrooms, and a four-year-old needed space.
She knew they’d be welcomed at the Starr home, but that would put a lot of pressure on Beryl, who’d had hip replacement surgery less than two months ago. If they couldn’t go back to the house, she and Debbie would have to find temporary accommodations elsewhere. At the absolute worst, she could rent a room at one of the motels just outside of town. Not the best place for a child, but what else could she do? If she could get one with a kitchenette, it might not be too awful. At least they wouldn’t have to eat take-out every night, and although she loved fast-food breakfast sandwiches, sometimes you just wanted toast and peanut butter.
Misty walked over to the window, opened the curtain, and looked out into the blackness of the night, seeing her reflection in the windowpane. Had she always looked so tired? So defeated? Where was the vibrant young woman who’d dreamed of performing on Broadway? So many lost dreams, so many ruined lives, and for what? Despite every precaution they’d taken, people had been killed: Kevin, two other mobsters whose names she couldn’t remember, and four marshals who’d been tasked with protecting her identity. They still hadn’t caught the man who’d sworn to kill her. How many others might get hurt in this vendetta? She’d carry this burden of guilt the rest of her life. Sometimes, the price of doing the right thing was too high.
At times like these, she barely recognized the stranger she’d become. The plastic surgery had sculpted her chin, shortened her nose, and cut away the fullness of her cheeks. The deep red hair, cut waif-like, made her face seem even sharper and more angular despite the twenty pounds she’d gained. The face that looked back at her didn’t look as friendly and open as her own had. She was attractive, but there was a haughtiness to her that wasn’t her at all. People had considered her snobbish in Atlanta and Denver, but not in Pine Falls. Here, they didn’t let appearances deceive them.
At times like these, having seen Kelly’s hair yesterday, she missed her waist-length, strawberry-blonde tresses — the first casualty in altering her appearance. She’d been reed-thin before the pregnancy, and even throughout much of it, but Kevin had disliked what impending motherhood had done to her body.
When she’d testified in court, her hair had been loose, hiding most of her face, and she’d worn her glasses. She’d also been nine months pregnant but so thin that, other than the baby bump, no one would have noticed.
She’d had laser surgery on her eyes, kept her hair a deep auburn shade, cut almost too short — a style she didn’t really like, but she’d learned to live with — and she’d gained weight, most of it muscle since she worked out and practiced her self-defense moves every day. No one would ever push her around again. She wasn’t fat by any means, but she was curvier, looked more like a woman than a teenager, and she liked that about herself. No one would guess she was only twenty-three since she dressed and acted much older, and her most recent driver’s license stated she was twenty-eight. She’d given up five years of her life for safety in Pine Falls.
She closed the drapes and walked over to her daughter’s bed. This angel was what made the sacrifice worthwhile. Everything she’d done that fateful day had been to keep her safe, and she wondered if her hope of finding sanctuary was a pipe dream. She pulled up the covers and tucked the pink unicorn under the child’s arm. It was almost midnight. Hard to believe that a little over an hour ago she’d been at rehearsal contemplating asking Nick out for coffee. The Fates had not been kind.
Despite everything that had happened, it looked like Debbie would have a peaceful night. Thank God they’d all gotten out safely. She hoped Charlotte’s house hadn’t been too badly damaged, but it would need a thorough cleaning. She’d offer to pay for that; it was the least she could do. She was tired of innocent people suffering because of a decision she’d made. If she’d have just left Kevin, disappeared, and kept her mouth shut, she wouldn’t have had to move to Pine Falls in the first place. The thought saddened her, especially when Nick’s image popped into her head, but it was the truth.
Money was as tight for Charlotte as it was for her. Charlotte had a widow’s pension and worked with Micah at the car dealership. Misty had her salary and a little money left from what she’d inherited five years ago when her parents had died. The FBI had sold her home, and the money from the sale had helped with expenses during Debbie’s first year when Misty had been terrified to leave her even for a few hours a day. Much of her financial safety cushion was gone now since she’d used it to make the down payment on the house and purchase the necessities she’d needed. With the loss of this house, if indeed it was lost, she’d be in dismal financial shape. If the fire had been caused by her carelessness, would insurance cover any of the damages?
Misty slipped into the bed and stretched out on the firm mattress, pulling the thin blankets up to her chin. She repositioned herself, trying to get comfortable. She shuddered, not from cold, but from the fear that things would not get better any time soon. She wished she were still in Nick’s arms where she’d felt warm and safe. It was odd the way a perfect stranger — probably the last man who could protect her given his circumstances — could make her feel that way. He was kind and caring, the kind of man her father had been, and she felt her defenses begin to crumble.
She was so tired of being strong, having to hide her emotions all the time. She wanted someone in her life, someone she could trust to keep her secrets and be there for her. But that was never going to happen. She turned onto her side so Debbie was in her line of sight and allowed the tears to come. If anything had happened to Debbie she’d never have forgiven herself. The blankets were scratchy, and it was the last straw. She turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sobs that racked her body. She missed her new duvet, the one she’d bought only last week to match the new paint job in her room. All that work for nothing. Why was her life such a mess?
As the sedative began to take effect, the tears abated, and she drifted off to sleep. Rather than the restful oblivion Laura had hoped she’d find, because of her heightened emotional state, Misty found herself in the nightmare that had been her life four and a half years ago. She tried to fight against the surfacing memories that she’d repressed for so long, but the monsters refused to remain caged, and the nightmare began plunging her back into t
he memories she’d suppressed for so long.
No matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself otherwise, her marriage to Kevin O’Hara had been doomed from the moment he’d insisted on it. In the end, it had resembled a whale dead on the beach: too sad and hideous to look at, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the horror of it even if you wanted to.
While they’d been dating, she’d considered herself the luckiest girl in New York. He’d seemed like the perfect man, with his Irish good looks, mischievous blue eyes, and whiskey-smooth voice with just a touch of the Emerald Isle in it. She’d loved the way he’d flattered her, the way he’d brought her small gifts, and the way he’d made her feel special with just a smile. When he’d gotten her that small role in a Broadway musical, she’d thought she could never feel happier or more loved than she had at that moment. But it hadn’t been real. None of it had been real. Blarney, fabricated rubbish, part of the false persona he wore, the price he was willing to pay to get into her pants. Her parents had told her so, but what girl listened to her parents when she thought she was in love?
The play had flopped and folded after six weeks. She’d sung a few times at a supper club in the West Village, but after she’d told Kevin about the baby, he’d adamantly refused to allow her to perform anywhere again. She’d gone from being on top of the world to depressed and demoralized, trapped and unable to get away. Trapped! Funny word since it was the very thing he’d accused her of doing to him when she’d told him she was pregnant.
Kevin had been furious. He’d started yelling at her, calling her vile names, accusing her of trapping him, screaming that he couldn’t be the child’s father and that some other guy had knocked her up and she’d decided to blame it on him. He’d seemed conveniently to have forgotten she’d been a virgin when he’d bedded her, and since he’d rarely let her out of his sight, it would have been impossible for anyone else to have touched her.
In Plain Sight Page 6
