Innocent Lies

by Robin Patchen

  That was different.

  He took her hand, held it, said nothing. Then he squeezed it and let go.

  "What was that?" she asked.

  "Grace."

  "You don't say it out loud?"

  He turned and smiled. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but I can next time, if you want." He lifted his breakfast sandwich and took a bite, and she did the same. It was delicious. Warm and salty and gooey.

  When she'd finished a few bites, she asked, "How long have you been here?"

  Eric sipped his juice and set the glass down. "I bought the house a couple years ago. I'd been renting a condo, but I wanted a little land and some space for Magic to run."

  "Your home is lovely."

  He nodded, took another bite.

  "But I meant, how long have you lived in Nutfield?"

  He swallowed his bite, wiped his fingers on a napkin, and sipped his juice. He stared into the kitchen. "I think I knew what you meant."

  "Oh."

  Another moment passed. Finally, he turned to face her, waited until she looked back. "I came here right after I graduated. Figured, if you ever wanted to find me..."

  She looked down at her food while a flush of shame warmed her cheeks. She should have. If only she could have.

  There was nothing to say. She returned to her breakfast.

  "Where have you been living?"

  First question about her past, and already one she couldn't answer honestly. "All over." Sort of true.

  "Can you be more specific?"

  She finished her last bite. "That was delicious. Just what I needed."

  He ignored her comment. "I thought it might be easier for you if we started small, worked our way back. But..." He shrugged, stood, and grabbed their plates.

  The dog stood at the threshold of the kitchen while Eric slid a fried egg neither had eaten, one she suspected he'd made just for the dog, onto his dirty plate. He set the plate on the floor.

  Magic stood alert and quivered, but she didn't move.

  "I know it's not recommended," Eric said, "but she gets a lot of people food."

  "Mama always said dogs have been eating scraps for thousands of years. The folks at Purina started that foolishness."

  Eric smiled, nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

  The dog still hadn't moved. Finally, Eric said, "Come."

  She skidded across the kitchen floor and inhaled the egg in one bite, then set about trying to lick the white off the plate.

  "She likes to savor her food." Eric sent the dog back into the living room and lifted her plate. He started the dishes.

  "I spent some time in Plano," she said.

  He turned off the spigot and faced her. "Why there?"

  She shrugged, embarrassed. "I wanted to see where you'd grown up. First thing I saw coming into town was a giant billboard with your father's picture on it."

  He chuckled. "I'd forgotten about that. His agency was doing really well. Still is. That was a few years back."

  "Yeah."

  "How long were you there?"

  She sipped her tea, remembered those months. It had been torture being there, close to his folks. They'd met, of course, when they'd come to visit Eric at school. In Plano, Kelsey had been cautious, steered clear of any places they might frequent. She'd been waiting tables and singing weekends at a country music bar in a nearby town. Poor Daniel had stayed with a teenager when she was at work. One day, she'd seen Eric's mother at Target. She doubted the woman had seen her, figured Mrs. Nolan wouldn't have recognized her with the lighter, longer hair. Still, it wasn't worth the risk. She'd already known she needed to move on. Being anywhere she might run into someone she'd met in the past was a mistake.

  "I was there about eight months, about six years ago."

  He turned back to the dishes.

  "You want me to do those? Seems only fair, since you cooked."

  "You need to stay off that ankle. And I don't mind." He put their plates and the pan in the dishwasher. "Where'd you go after Plano?"

  "I lived near Ft. Worth for a while."

  He wiped the counters, put away the toaster.

  "I headed back east after that. Stayed in Shreveport a few years. Got a job working as an administrative assistant, and they transferred me." And now, she had to lie. Because Daniel would have told Eric he was from Oklahoma. "So I moved to a little town outside of Kansas City." Yes, she'd be able to remember that. Oklahoma City. Kansas City. She'd learned to keep her lies simple and as close to the truth as possible. Elaborate lies were harder to keep track of.

  "How long did you live there?"

  "Three years." Since Daniel had started first grade, Oklahoma had been home. The town was small, safe, and had good schools. She'd had a decent job. Daniel'd had friends. She'd even had a few friends, women she'd met at work, a couple through Daniel's school. Of course, it was hard—impossible—to develop real friendships when your whole life was a lie.

  She'd been fortunate, worked school hours, which was a far sight better than when she'd worked nights. But money had been tight. Very tight, and that had only been made worse when her health insurance rates had doubled. That's why Kelsey'd taken the job singing in the club on the edge of town. Daniel's friend Caleb's mom had agreed to let Daniel spend Friday nights at her house, allowing Kelsey to earn some extra money. The woman had been gracious when Kelsey'd asked, embarrassed to need the favor.

  "It's a blessing to be asked," Ellie had said. "I know you'd do it for me."

  She would, of course, but Ellie would never need Kelsey for anything. She'd had a husband at home, parents on the next block, and friends who went back to preschool.

  Kelsey had no idea what it would be like to have that kind of support system. Just having one friend to step in and help her had been a luxury she hadn't known in years.

  Daniel had flourished there. He'd been like a normal kid. Begged her for a skateboard until she'd finally relented, and he and Caleb had ridden all over their little neighborhood. A year before, Caleb's father'd built a ramp for them, and they'd spent hours on that thing.

  "You miss it?"

  She blinked, realized Eric was watching her, and she saw no amusement in his gaze. What emotions had played across her face since she'd last spoken?

  She smiled. "I guess I do, a little. It was home."

  The frown on his face told her that information hadn't made him feel better.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The look on Kelsey's face had Eric's breakfast knotting in his stomach. He knew that look—he'd seen it in her eyes often enough. Kelsey had left somebody. Somebody she loved.

  Fine.

  A decade had passed. Of course she'd moved on. He ought to have moved on, too.

  He poured himself a third cup of coffee he knew he wouldn't drink, just to give him a moment to regroup. While he added the sugar, he said, "More tea?"

  "Sure."

  He grabbed another tea bag, filled her cup, and popped it in the microwave. While it warmed, he spun his wedding ring.

  The reason he'd never moved on.

  Because maybe they'd been young, maybe they'd been crazy to elope, but he'd taken those marriage vows seriously. Still did. Never believed for a minute she'd died, and not just because of blind hope. No body, no evidence. Nothing but an anonymous call. Only a fool would fall for that.

  He'd waited.

  Apparently, she hadn't.

  Fine.

  If she left him to go back to...to whoever, then fine. At least he'd know. He could put the ring back in the drawer where he'd been storing it for a decade. He could break the vows, move on. But not until he knew the rest of the story. Because out there, somewhere, was the person who'd destroyed his life. And with no hope of keeping Kelsey, nothing would stop him from finding that person and making him pay.

  He silenced the niggling in his conscious, the one that told him revenge wasn't the answer. Maybe it wouldn't make him feel better, but at least he'd be doing something. At least he'd h
ave a plan.

  The microwave beeped, and he gave Kelsey her tea, waited 'til she'd added sugar, and asked the question that would get his mind back on track.

  "What made you leave Kansas City?"

  "I was playing a club one night." She wrapped her hands around her cup.

  "Are you cold?"

  "The tea will warm me up."

  "No sense sitting here shivering when there's a fire right there. Come on." He lifted her tea and offered his arm, which she took with a smile. He helped her to the sofa, though she was perfectly capable of getting there on her own. He set her tea on the coffee table. The dog had been warming herself in front of the fire, as if her winter coat wasn't quite warm enough. But when she saw Kelsey, she padded around the table and sat at her feet. Kelsey scratched under Magic's ears.

  "Why were you singing?" he asked. "Thought you'd been working as an administrative assistant."

  "I just sang one night a week, to help with the bills."

  He remembered how she loved to be on stage, how she'd energize a crowd. He sat on the chair catty-corner to her. "You always enjoyed performing. You must have loved it."

  She frowned. "Not really. It wasn't... Things changed after..." She swallowed, looked away. "It was scary, being on stage. Knowing people were seeing me, but because of the stage lights, I couldn't see them. It was a risk every time I stepped up there. I'd search the audience for familiar faces before I went on. I played bars the locals frequented, not that there were tourists visiting where I lived. I thought I was safe."

  Eric hated to think of his Kelsey as skittish. Again, the desire for revenge gnawed like hunger. "Why did you do it, then? Why take the risk?"

  Her smile was shy, the smile of that girl he'd met on the quad years before. "I guess I was pretty good, because people came to see me. I made a cut of the bar's sales. I could bring home a week's wages in a couple of hours. It was worth the risk."

  Nothing was worth the risk, not if the people after her wanted to hurt her. How much money did it take to support herself, anyway? How much did she need?

  He was being judgmental. He didn't care. "Was it? Worth it to risk your life for a couple of bucks in your pocket?"

  Her eyes flashed. "You have no idea what my life was like."

  "Your choice. Not mine."

  "You don't understand."

  "Obviously."

  She looked away, sighed like she'd been defeated, and made him feel like a jerk. "It wasn't worth it, in the end. Somebody recognized me. A girl I went to high school with. I talked to her, tried to hide my accent, pretended like I had no idea who she was. But she knew. And since I hadn't seen her until after my show, who knows who she texted? For all I know, she took my photo and plastered it all over Facebook."

  "So you ran."

  "I ran."

  "Smart."

  "It's why I'm still alive. Every time I saw somebody, even when I wasn't sure... But it was harder this time. Kansas City had been home."

  He threw his next remark out, hoping for truth. Hoping he was wrong. "You have somebody there."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Somebody you love."

  She smiled, looked away, shook her head. "Not like you think. Just... I'd made some friends."

  Nope. She was lying. About that. Maybe about more. Maybe this was all a ploy to get out of town. She'd spin her tale, then ask him to make good on his promise. And he would, too. Drop her wherever and be done.

  Except it would never be done. Regardless of how she felt, he'd love her forever.

  He stood, stoked the fire, and reminded himself that he'd had a life before Kelsey showed up. Maybe not the perfect life, but friends, family, and faith. He'd lived without Kelsey before. He could do it again.

  He just didn't want to.

  "Eric?"

  He added a log, made sure it was burning, then replaced the screen. He sat and folded his hands together. "So you ran."

  She met his gaze, held it, seemed to be trying to convince him of something. He didn't look away, and she sighed. "I came here."

  "Why here?"

  "The man who"—she stared at her hands—"who took me. He has connections in Nutfield."

  He repeated her words in his head. The man...in Nutfield? Too many questions left unanswered in that statement. "Tell me about this man."

  Her face paled, and she reached for her tea with trembling fingers, then seemed to change her mind. She resumed petting Magic. "He... I was..." She took a deep breath. "His name is Carlos."

  He remained silent, tried to will her the confidence to speak.

  "Carlos Otero. I don't know if that's his real name, but it's the one he's gone by since he came to the States."

  "From?"

  "Venezuela."

  "Is that the man you saw at the house in Savannah?"

  She shook her head. "That was a lackey, the guy they hired to lure in the girls. He had a pretty face and no heart. He got into human trafficking to put himself through law school."

  Human trafficking. The words were so innocuous considering what they represented. To have her speak them so casually made him want to punch someone. The man who'd done this to his wife. He let the feeling roll through him like the energy from a lightning strike, pushed the fury aside, and focused again. "How do you know that much about him?"

  "My testimony put him in prison. Him and a bunch of other guys. The highest up in the organization besides Carlos was a guy named Mateo Ruiz, Carlos's right-hand man."

  Eric was still absorbing that news when she continued.

  "I crippled"—she made air quotes around the word—"their operation. That's what the detective said. More like I sprained it. It healed faster than my ankle, I think. A month, maybe six weeks later, Carlos was right back at it. Apparently, there's an endless supply of greedy, heartless men who treat women like livestock."

  He silenced his first response to that, flipped through a few others before settling on, "We're not all like that."

  Her gaze flicked to his, then back to the fire. She didn't seem convinced.

  She was getting way ahead of him. He couldn't keep up. "Let's go back to the beginning. You woke up in the trunk of a car. Then what?"

  "The kid, Kyle, drove me to a little house on the outskirts of Miami. Danielle was there, along with a few other girls. I'll never forget the look in my sister's eyes when she saw me. Such hope. She had no doubt that I could rescue her."

  Kelsey stared into the fire while he watched her face. He couldn't force his eyes away, though the expression he saw, that haunted look he'd seen the night before, wounded him like no words ever could. If only she'd trusted him. If only she'd asked him to go with her to find her sister, or called him before she'd gone to that house. He'd have been there for her. None of it would have happened.

  By the look in her eyes, Kelsey had rehearsed those if-onlys for a decade.

  She wiped a tear from her cheek, then another.

  He went into the small bathroom under the stairs and grabbed a box of tissues. Back in the living room, he handed her one and set the box on the coffee table.

  "Thank you."

  He waited until her tears stopped falling before he said, "Then what happened?"

  "Then..." But her voice trailed off. The only sound in the room was the crackling fire and the ticking clock. The dog pressed into Kelsey's leg, and she pet her, though her gaze never left the fireplace.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The contented dog beside her, the dancing flames in front of her—neither were infusing her with the courage she needed to share the story with Eric.

  She couldn't seem to form words.

  She'd told the story many times—to police officers, detectives, lawyers. But she couldn't seem to tell her husband.

  It wasn't hard to figure out why. It was quite simple, in fact. She didn't want him to know. She never wanted Eric to understand the horrors she'd been through, what had happened to her. How could she explain it to this gentle man? The truth about what
happened to her in Miami would kill him.

  The rest of it—how could he ever forgive her?

  Those months played out in her memory until she thought of something she could share.

  "Carlos seemed to think he and I were destined to be together. He had this bizarre idea that if he was just nice to me and bought me stuff, I'd forget he'd kidnapped me and my sister, forget what he'd done to us." She allowed the images those words brought to come and go before she continued. "He got to where he trusted me."

  She glanced at Eric. He was still watching her, gaze intent, like he was trying to pick up every nuance of her words. She was trying just as hard to hide the truth. Not that Eric didn't know. Maybe on some level, he knew the facts. But he could never understand. And she didn't want him to.

  "How'd you manage to convince him you were trustworthy?" Eric asked.

  She attempted a smile. "I could have won an Academy Award for my performance."

  His face only registered pain. She hated to think what he was imagining, and she wasn't about to give him more details.

  She had to save her sister. She'd have done anything to save her sister.

  She needed to keep his focus there. "I convinced him, over time, he could trust me. He got to where he let me go places by myself. Shopping, the doctor."

  "Were you sick?"

  She shouldn't have said that. "Nothing serious. The point is, he let me leave. So, I devised a plan. I didn't get to see Danielle very often, but when I did, I grilled her about her schedule. Once the girls had been..." She didn't know how to explain what they'd done to Danielle and the others, how they'd gotten the girls to comply. She wouldn't explain it. "They had the girls working a street corner, and Danielle told me where it was, exactly when they were there. One day when Carlos let me leave, I slipped into a McDonald's, changed clothes in the bathroom, tried to make myself look like a man—at least from far away. Then I hot-wired a car. I—"

  "Wait. How'd you learn to do that?"

  She shrugged. "Internet. Carlos let me use his computer sometimes."

  He shook his head. "Is it harder or easier than picking a lock?"