Innocent Lies

by Robin Patchen

  Not a question. She didn't answer.

  "How did you end up in Nutfield?"

  Another tricky question she didn't want to answer. She'd planned to leave the stolen car with a full tank of gas and a note of apology. But she'd stolen it. A felony.

  She couldn't tell the truth, and she wouldn't lie. Not yet. Not until she had to. She said nothing.

  "You promised you'd tell me everything."

  "When I'm out of here."

  Finally, he turned to face her again. He still held her hand. He needed to be connected to her as much as she did to him. "Then you'll start at the beginning?"

  He might as well have brought the doctor's x-ray machine in here, the way he was looking beyond her skin, behind her eyes. He'd know if she lied, but she didn't have a choice. "I'll start at the beginning."

  He leaned closer. Too close. She inhaled the scent of his soap, felt his breath on her cheek. He never broke eye contact. "And you'll stay."

  "I don't..." But she couldn't form words, not with him looking at her like that. Not with him this close. If only he'd close the last inch between them. She licked her lips, could nearly feel the kiss.

  His gaze dropped to watch the action, and he inched a little more forward. Her nerve endings screamed for his touch.

  "You don't want to leave me again," he said.

  Leave him. What was he talking about, leave him? She would never...

  But she had.

  And she would again.

  She leaned back just enough to give her brain room to think. "I don't want to."

  He let go of her hand and stood. "But you will."

  "I...I can't..."

  He crossed the two feet to the bars, then stepped out the door and leaned against the concrete wall. He crossed his arms. "Here's the deal, Kelsey. The only way you get out of here is if you stay in town until this mess is cleared up. You leave, and I'll put your name in the system myself."

  "You wouldn't."

  "Don't tempt me."

  "You love me."

  "With every stupid, pinhead cell in my body, I do. But there's a very thin line between love and hate. If I were you, I wouldn't cross it."

  He pulled her cell door closed and walked out.

  KELSEY batted the facts of the previous ten years around in her mind until she thought she might go insane. There was the truth, some of which she could share. There were the lies she'd been telling everybody, including her own son. Her name, her history, her story. The facts all jumbled together like a tangle of discarded necklaces in a drawstring bag. How could she extract just the chains she needed without accidentally yanking them all into the open?

  She couldn't. But she'd promised. She had to try. Eric deserved that.

  If only she'd stayed dead. Except he'd never believed it. Which meant what? She knew he'd never remarried, but he was still young. Just thirty. She'd figured he just hadn't met the right woman yet. She'd done enough internet stalking to know Eric had been made detective a few months before. She also knew he was involved with the little church in town. She'd searched his name and discovered he volunteered with the youth group there, which just confirmed that the good guy she'd known in college had grown up to be a good man, probably a great man. Because in New England, church wasn't expected. Folks didn't bat an eye if you didn't show up on Sundays, not like where she was from, where all the church ladies would look down their noses at the heathens who didn't dress to the nines and endure the services. Her mother'd been the perfect church lady.

  But Kelsey didn't believe for a minute that her Eric was anything but sincere.

  She hated herself for the way she'd hurt him. But what would she do differently, if she could go back?

  No, she couldn't think about all the would-have-beens. Too much pain on that trail.

  At least an hour passed before the magnetic door buzzed. Eric and the chief walked in. They both stopped outside the cell. The chief spoke. "The owner of the cabin is considering not pressing charges."

  "Considering it. But if he decides to?" she asked.

  "Then we have to charge you with breaking and entering. The people who own the cabin have every right."

  "Of course," she said. "You explained the situation?"

  "They're aware."

  "Okay. Did somebody shut the water back off?"

  Chief Thomas's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Eric before he responded. "I'll call their management company, be sure they take care of that. We don't want their pipes to freeze."

  "Thank you," she said. "That cabin saved my life. Even if they do press charges, I wish I could thank them personally."

  The chief nodded once, glanced at Eric again, and continued. "Then there's the matter of the gun."

  "Oh." She didn't want to lie. She didn't say anything.

  "Donny said you claimed you'd never seen it before."

  "Right," she said.

  "We have your fingerprints," he reminded her. "We got a good print off the gun. We could run them against each other."

  "Right," she said again. Then she sighed, knew she was stuck. "I bought it at a pawn shop. I've never fired it. I don't even know if it works."

  "Why'd you buy it?" Eric's voice had her meeting his eyes.

  "Single woman, traveling alone. I did some hitchhiking. Stayed at some seedy places. Seemed wise to at least look like I could defend myself."

  He looked like he wanted to question her further, but he kept his mouth shut. He turned to the chief, whose penetrating gaze hadn't left her face.

  The silence was stickier than sweet tea.

  "A gun with no bullets," the chief said, "is an invitation to get yourself killed. If you're going to have one, you need to know how to use it. Just as important, you need to be willing to use it."

  "Yes, sir."

  He sighed. "I can make the gun go away, but you're not getting it back."

  A tiny knot of tension loosened. "Thank you."

  The chief pulled keys out of his pocket and unlocked the cell door. "You haven't been charged with anything. But you need to stay in town until this is cleared up. You understand?"

  She nodded.

  "You have someplace to stay?"

  She looked at Eric. His gaze had remained steady, his face, unreadable. She looked back at the chief. "No."

  "She'll come home with me." Eric lifted his eyebrows. "If that's okay with you."

  She couldn't seem to make words come out of her mouth. Home with him. But if Daniel were there... Part of her hoped he would be, but she couldn't see her son again. Not yet. "You live alone?"

  "Just me and my dog."

  Of course Daniel wasn't with Eric. Equal parts sadness and relief had her speechless. Then she thought of spending the evening with her husband. She couldn't think of anything she'd like better. It would make leaving that much harder, but right now, she didn't care.

  Eric snatched the crutches off the far wall and carried them to her. "You ever used crutches before?"

  "Nope."

  "They're pretty simple. Stand up." She did, and he adjusted them to fit her. "There you go."

  She tried them out. Perfect. She met her husband's eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

  He nodded at the cell door. "Let's go."

  Five minutes later, she was seated beside Eric, and they were headed through town. She studied the buildings. Nutfield had changed a lot in the decade since she'd been there. Souvenir shops had cropped up, even a high-end clothing store. There were restaurants, a video arcade, and an ice cream shop. They passed a Bed and Breakfast in an old Victorian house, a mini-golf course, and a sporting goods store.

  "The town's grown a lot," she said.

  "Yup."

  "I guess it's been discovered. Back then, it felt like our little secret."

  He said nothing.

  "Nice Jeep. It's probably good in the snow, huh?"

  He adjusted the heat, turned up the fan. "You in the market for a car?"

  "Just trying to make conversation."


  "Stop."

  "Fine."

  They rode in silence. After a minute, he reached across the front seat and took her hand. She nearly cried.

  He drove away from Nutfield onto the country road that led to his house. She'd wondered about his choice of a house out in the country when she'd first driven out there after she'd made her plan. Her ridiculous, doomed-to-fail plan.

  They reached the dilapidated bridge that had nearly halted her progress a few days before. Only a fool would drive over a bridge like that. Looked like it had been there for centuries. Eric slowed the Jeep and proceeded cautiously. The bridge rattled loudly beneath them. She squeezed Eric's hand. He squeezed back but said nothing.

  When she didn't think she could take any more tension, he turned down his long driveway. His house was far from the road and hidden by so many trees, she wasn't sure what it looked like, though she'd passed it a few days before. Now, she stared as the place came into view. It was bigger than she'd imagined, a white Cape Cod with green shudders. It had windows on either side of the front door, two dormers on the second floor, and an attached garage. Thanks to the shade provided by the surrounding trees, the lawn and bushes in front of the house were still covered in snow. In the fading afternoon light, she noticed a glow from inside.

  "You left a light on."

  "Always do," he said. "I hate coming home to a dark house."

  All alone. She understood that.

  "Besides, Magic doesn't care for the dark."

  "Your dog?"

  He shifted into park, turned to her. "You like dogs?"

  "I've never had one."

  One eyebrow quirked. "Never?"

  "Mama refused to clean up after a dog."

  "Been a long time since you've lived with your mother."

  She didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't seem to expect her to. He opened his door, and she opened hers, started to climb out.

  He jogged around the Jeep and called to her as he headed for the front door. "Stay in the car." His tone left no room for arguing.

  "Yes, sir," she muttered to herself.

  Eric opened the front door, then returned for her. She figured he'd grab her crutches, but instead, he pulled her door open wider and lifted her out.

  Oh. She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively. "You don't have to carry me."

  "The walkway is slick." No smile.

  He carried her inside and plopped her on the couch, then went back outside.

  The home was beautiful. Hardwood floors, a brick fireplace, and soft brown furniture. There was a round kitchen table with four chairs in front of a back sliding glass door.

  She turned the other direction, saw the efficient kitchen beyond a peninsula with two barstools.

  The staircase stood across from the front door, and beyond that, she couldn't see. Perhaps a dining room? She wanted to hobble over there and have a look, but Eric was back before she could.

  He slammed the door behind him. Then he propped her crutches against the far wall and lifted the backpack. "You want this in your room or with you?"

  Your room. Not our room. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or distraught.

  "Up is fine. I don't need anything out of it."

  He jogged up the stairs. A few minutes passed, and then she heard the pounding of footsteps, a little metallic jiggle. A blond dog that looked about forty pounds ran down the stairs and to her side, then ran to the door, then ran to her side again. The dog sniffed her, licked her outstretched fingers, and ran to the back door again.

  Eric returned to the first floor. "Don't mind my dog. She's crazy." Eric crossed the room and opened the back door. "Come on, Magic."

  The dog bolted out the back door, and Eric closed it behind her. "Crazy but sweet. She loves company."

  "You have company a lot?"

  "No."

  He'd taken off his jacket and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. "I had to put sheets on the extra bed. I haven't had company since my folks visited last fall."

  No company? She knew that wasn't true, but she couldn't question him about it. "Okay."

  He seemed not to hear her as he adjusted the thermostat against the wall. "Sorry. I know it's freezing. I don't heat it much when I'm not here."

  She tried not to shiver. "It's fine."

  He crossed to the fireplace, where he set about building a fire.

  "You don't have to do that," she said.

  Again, no response.

  She watched from behind. His shirt fit perfectly across his wide shoulders and trim back. She stared as he tore newspaper and stacked logs, mesmerized by the beauty of him. She'd forgotten.

  How could she have forgotten?

  Fire lit, he opened the back door for the dog, who came in and crossed to her side. She sat beside her, and Kelsey pet her behind the ears. Magic wore a big doggie smile, and her tail thumped the floor behind her.

  This was the dog that had discovered Daniel. She bent close, whispered, "Thank you."

  Magic just panted and leaned into her hand.

  She looked up and realized Eric was watching. But when she caught his eye, he turned to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Brady said you ate at the station. You need anything else?"

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Drink?"

  "Water."

  He brought her a glass but didn't hand it to her. "Why don't you take off your shoes and prop up that ankle?"

  "It's fine, Eric."

  He waited. Didn't say a word, just watched her.

  She slipped off the boots, trying not to flinch with pain, and shifted until her feet were on the couch.

  He set the water on the coffee table, grabbed a pillow from a chair behind him. She guessed it had come with the furniture. She couldn't imagine him shopping for throw pillows. He propped it under her ankle, lifted a blanket off the chair, and laid it over her. Then, he handed her the glass. "Okay?"

  "Thank you."

  He returned to the kitchen. She sipped her water while she watched him feed the dog, then prepare a meal. He moved in and out of her view, snatching ingredients, banging pots and pans. The aroma of sautéing vegetables filled the space, then something else. Chicken, she thought. Minutes slipped away while he cooked, she watched, and neither spoke a word.

  She went back to studying his house. The fire crackled, already warming the room. She studied the photographs on the mantle. His parents, his brothers. Seemed at least two of them had married in the previous decade. There were pictures of kids, too. It looked like Eric had a nephew and two nieces.

  The house felt like a home. A home he'd made without her. A nicer home than any she'd had since she'd left. Would they have ended up in a place like this? During their short honeymoon, they'd talked about relocating to Nutfield. Would they have done it? Would they have picked out this warm sofa, that bland lamp? No, she'd have wanted something more unique. They might have disagreed. He'd have given in, let her decorate. And because he did, she'd have tried to find a compromise. They'd have laughed later, maybe sat on the couch and watched TV together and fought over the remote control and kissed during the commercials.

  That was the future they'd been meant to have.

  Grief settled on her heavier than the blanket covering her legs. She twisted to study the other side of the room. Not much to see except a plastic sack beside the front door she hadn't noticed before. It had the logo of a store they'd passed.

  "What'd you buy at the sporting goods store?" she asked.

  "Gift for a boy I met the other day."

  He missed her quiet gasp, thank God. Daniel. He'd bought a gift for her Daniel. Tell me more. Silently begging, she waited. When he said nothing else, she asked, "Where'd you meet him?"

  "Long story. The kid was abandoned, left to fend for himself."

  Her eyes prickled at the words. What would Eric think if he knew the truth? Would he ever be able to forgive her?

  Would Daniel?

  Eric continued cooking, added nothing else.<
br />
  "How sad," she said when she'd successfully buried the tears. "Where is he now?"

  "Foster care."

  She squeezed her eyes shut, thankful Eric wasn't watching. "Good family?"

  "Yeah. They're great. A far sight better than the monster who abandoned him. If I ever get my hands on her..."

  He would hate her when he learned the truth. But at least he'd never take it out on Daniel.

  "How's the boy doing?" she asked.

  "Fine. They got him in school. He's smart."

  The best. The very, very best kid ever. She swiped away tears and forced her mind onto another subject.

  Eric finished cooking, sat at the counter, his back to her, and ate his dinner.

  She cleared her throat of the emotion. "What'd you make?"

  "You said you weren't hungry."

  "Just curious."

  "Chinese stir-fry."

  "Fancy."

  "Frozen."

  He obviously didn't want to talk. She, on the other hand, had a million questions. They would only invite him to question her, and she figured they'd get there soon enough.

  She settled back on the sofa to wait. Eventually, he'd come in. He'd talk to her. And then she'd have to figure out what to say. How much to tell him. How to get out of this.

  Suddenly, she wasn't in such a rush for the conversation.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Vanessa returned from the doctor's office Friday evening, Carlos was out. Not surprising. He was involved in business ventures she knew little about. He'd only shared one aspect of his business with her, the one she'd known ever since he'd won her in a poker game in Nice. From the start, she'd set out to prove to him that she could be more than just a source of income, more than just one of his girls. She'd been a street hooker, then she'd been a high-priced call girl until she'd been purchased by her previous owner, a sheikh with an evil streak and a twisted mind.

  Until she'd met Abbas, Vanessa had always been so focused on survival, to take her own life had never occurred to her. But as Abbas's favorite source of amusement, trapped on his yacht miles from land, she'd considered jumping, fantasized about letting the blue waters of the Mediterranean take her. But the porthole in her stateroom was too small to squeeze out of, and Abbas rarely let her leave the room. When he did, a guard was never too far away. And the guards were as twisted as their employer.