by B. J Daniels
It wasn’t until she’d covered herself and Lexi that she turned to look back.
But of course there was no one there.
Chapter Nine
Jenna scooped Lexi up into her arms and ran toward the lobby, praying that Elmer had returned.
“How did you like the swimming pool, little lady?” he said, smiling at her daughter. His gaze shifted to Jenna and his expression changed. “You saw them.”
Her heart dropped. “Them?”
“I’m sorry but I didn’t want to say anything to scare you, but I’ve felt them. Even saw one. Some old gal in a purple hat with feathers.”
“She’s nice,” Lexi said. “She waved and smiled at me.”
Jenna drew her daughter closer as she stared at Elmer. “You’re telling me…”
He nodded. “From what I could learn, she was the hotel owner’s wife. She was—” he glanced at Lexi “—lost opening night in 1936.”
In the fire. Jenna took a ragged breath, her gaze going to the photograph of the man from her dream. “What do you know about Bobby John Chamberlain?” she asked, motioning toward the picture.
Elmer stepped closer and frowned. “Bobby John Chamberlain.” He reached under the counter, then stopped, his frown deepening.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“There was a box of Fernhaven pamphlets under here. They seem to be gone.” He looked confused and a little scared.
“Maybe you moved them and didn’t remember,” she said, wondering why it mattered. She’d obviously rattled the poor man.
“It’s just…odd. But you’re right, I probably moved them. Or someone else did yesterday and I didn’t notice.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he seemed to shake it off as he reached under the registration desk and brought out a stack of photographs. He went through them, mumbling to himself, obviously still agitated over the missing box of pamphlets.
“The owners of the hotel got photographs from the newspaper archive,” Elmer said. “A lot of the photos ran after the fire. It was big news as you can imagine.”
Jenna held her breath as he drew out a photo and handed it to her. Like the other photo, the name Bobby John Chamberlain had a line through it, with “Harry Ballantine” neatly printed underneath in different handwriting.
“Who is Harry Ballantine?” she asked, afraid she didn’t want to know.
Elmer nodded as if to himself. “I looked up some of those old newspaper articles from June 1936. It’s funny you should ask about Harry Ballantine. There were a lot of famous people at Fernhaven that night. But Harry was without a doubt the most infamous. He was a renowned jewel thief in his day.”
“A thief,” Jenna said, wondering why she would be surprised. She’d married Lorenzo, hadn’t she? Why not conjure up a jewel thief for a phantom lover? “Why was the other name under his photo?”
“The story came out after the tragedy that Harry had conned a rich Texan oilman named Bobby John Chamberlain out of his invitation to the 1936 Fernhaven grand opening.”
“What happened to Harry?” she asked, her voice barely recognizable even to her own ears.
“Died in the fire. Ironic, isn’t it? If he hadn’t stolen the Chamberlain fellow’s identity, he wouldn’t have died. But then again, he was a thief, no doubt here to steal some of that jewelry in those photographs.” Elmer sighed. “In a way, I guess he got his just rewards. Strange, though, how Chamberlain died right after that. An accident at one of his oil rigs. I guess he just couldn’t beat death.”
Jenna was speechless. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a deafening drumming. Her limbs felt weak as water. She stared down at the photograph of Harry Ballantine, a man she felt she knew. Dead for seventy years…
“He the one you’re seeing?” Elmer asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything.”
Elmer nodded knowingly. “With the rain stopped, the highway patrol said they should have the road open sometime later today. I left a breakfast tray outside the door to your room.”
“Thank you.”
“They can’t hurt you or your daughter,” Elmer said. “You’re safe here.”
Jenna wasn’t so sure about that.
ONCE INSIDE THE ROOM, Jenna locked the door behind them and stood for a moment trying to get her heart rate back down. She was shaking, and not from the cold.
Fred came out Lexi’s bedroom meowing loudly.
Jenna started toward her own bedroom and stopped. Someone had been in the room. She sniffed the air. That scent. She’d smelled it last night in the dream.
Unnerved, she tried to convince herself she’d only imagined it. Just as she’d imagined the voice, the feel of the man in the pool. Her body still tingled from the feel of him against her in the hot water. Harry Ballantine? Thief?
She thought of the duffel bag of money and raced into the bedroom. It was where she’d left it, and none of the money appeared to be missing.
She rezipped the bag, shoved it into the back of the closet and sat down heavily on the bed.
In the other room Lexi was talking to Clarice and eating the breakfast Elmer had sent up. From the doorway Fred was meowing loudly, as if trying to tell Jenna what had taken place while she’d been gone.
She tried to pull herself together. After a few moments she realized that Fred had gone into Lexi’s room and was acting almost normal. Almost too normal for a cat. When she glanced into her daughter’s room, she found Lexi was rubbing her eyes.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Lexi stumbled to her and let Jenna hold her.
“Why don’t we lie down for a little while?”
Lexi nodded sleepily against her.
Jenna helped her daughter out of her swimsuit and into warm, dry clothing. When she tucked her into the bed, Lexi was asleep in an instant. Playing in the hot water, plus the interrupted sleep from last night, had tired them both out.
Unable to put it off any longer, Jenna left Lexi’s bedroom door open and went to her own room to retrieve her cell phone. She hesitated. The road would be open soon. And the instant it was, she was getting out. She had to trust someone. Someone who would help her.
She was in short supply of friends. Lorenzo had seen to that. She couldn’t call Raymond Valencia and ask for more help.
He’d helped her all through the divorce, even telling her who to contact to get fake passports. But she couldn’t involve him again. She’d seen the way he looked at her.
Asking for his help again would only open her up to something she wasn’t interested in pursuing—and possibly put her in more danger. Fortunately she’d met two women since she’d moved out and gotten the divorce. Charlene Palmer lived in the same apartment house as Jenna. She’d met the other woman, Rose Garcia, in the grocery store. They’d since run into each other at the park.
Jenna thought of the two women, both so different. Neither knew Lorenzo, or vice versa.
Jenna flushed at the memory of how she’d confided in both women, complete strangers. She’d been raised to keep her personal business to herself, and yet she’d opened up to Rose especially. Rose had been so easy to talk to. While Jenna had never mentioned Lorenzo’s name, she’d told her new friend everything that had happened.
Even now she wondered why she’d done that, knowing how dangerous it was to talk to anyone.
But Rose had been so supportive and such a good listener. And Jenna had thought she’d never see her again.
As it was, she’d run into her on a half-dozen occasions. Rose had encouraged her to go to the police with what she knew, to try to put Lorenzo behind bars. Jenna had assured her she knew nothing about Lorenzo’s business affairs, and shuddered at the thought of what her ex-husband would have done if she’d gone to the authorities.
“He has some of the police on his payroll,” Jenna had told her.
Rose had been shocked and wanted to know who.
“I don’t know. I just know that when I went to the police when he ignored the court’s orders, no
thing happened.”
“He thinks he’s above the law, but he’s not,” Rose had argued.
Jenna had laughed. “He is above the law. His power extends far beyond the police, believe me. He’s a ruthless man who destroys anyone who gets in his way.”
“Let me help you,” Rose had insisted, pressing a piece of paper with her cell phone number on it into Jenna’s hand.
Jenna had hidden the number in her purse, but she’d never called. No one understood just how dangerous Lorenzo Dante was. And she didn’t want to drag anyone else into this.
Her other new friend was her neighbor, Charlene Palmer. She’d met Charlene one day after Lorenzo had broken the restraining order and come by, making loud threats and breaking things. Fortunately, Lexi had been in an afternoon preschool program up the street.
Charlene had come over right after Lorenzo left, and had asked if she could help. The walls were thin; she’d obviously heard everything.
Charlene was a large, soft woman with a kind face. She’d given Jenna a hug, gone into the kitchen and poured them both diet colas, then sat down and said, “Talk to me, honey. That bastard who was just here—your ex, right?” She hadn’t waited for an answer. She’d just started telling Jenna about her own ex, who she said was doing time in prison.
Jenna had worried at first about befriending Charlene. Not that Charlene would have any reason to know who Lorenzo was. It wasn’t as if he’d ever been arrested for his crimes and gotten his picture in the paper. And Jenna had rented the apartment in her maiden name, McDonald.
It seemed safe to talk to a woman who seemed to actually understand because she’d been in her shoes.
And Jenna liked Charlene. The woman had survived misfortune, was easygoing, had an attitude Jenna admired.
It had been Charlene’s idea to keep Jenna’s spare apartment key. “Honey, I had a husband like your ex. He beat me up so bad one night…” Tears had welled in Charlene’s eyes. She’d brushed at them angrily. “Thank God I’d given my apartment key to a friend who lived next door. She waited until my old man left, then came over and took me to the hospital. I would have bled to death on the floor if she hadn’t had a key. In our neighborhood you didn’t call the cops. And you couldn’t afford an ambulance.”
The story had chilled Jenna. Lorenzo was capable of hurting her. Hurting her badly.
Jenna knew that either woman would help her. She pulled out her purse.
She dialed a number. It rang once, twice, three times. Jenna started to hang up, suddenly afraid she’d picked the wrong person to trust.
CHARLENE PALMER HAD HER feet up on the coffee table, a bag of potato chips on one side of her and a box of cookies on the other. She’d just poured herself a large glass of diet cola and had settled in to watch her favorite soap. Life was good.
Her cell phone rang in her purse on the other side of the room. She eyed it suspiciously. It rang again. She swore softly. Her show was just starting, and when the phone rang it was never good news.
It rang a third time. And she had the oddest feeling that she should answer it. She shoved herself up from the couch and launched herself across the room, snatching up her purse, digging deep and coming up with the phone as it rang a fourth time.
“Yeah?” She was out of breath, heart pounding from the exertion of just crossing the room.
Plus it always spooked her a little when she got one of those “feelings.” Her Grandmother Tyler believed she could see the future. Of course, everyone in the family thought her just a crazy old bat.
But one time Grandmother Tyler had stared into Charlene’s eyes and said, “You got the gift, too, don’t you, girl?”
Charlene had denied it. Hell, she didn’t need that kind of gift. No way.
And yet even before she heard Jenna Dante’s voice, Charlene knew that her “gift” hadn’t let her down—at least not this time. Answering this call was the smartest thing she’d done in a long time.
“Charlene?”
Jenna Dante. She tried to catch her breath. “Hey, girl.” She felt a sharp stab of regret as she hit the TV’s mute button. She hated missing her show. “You all right?” Jenna hadn’t come home last night and she’d been worried about her.
“You said if I ever needed help…”
Charlene looked toward the heavens and smiled at her luck. “I meant it. What can I do?” She glanced at her soap ruefully and just hoped nothing big happened on it today.
“I’m kind of in a bind,” Jenna said on the other end of the line.
“It’s that ex of yours, isn’t it,” Charlene stated.
“I’m afraid so. I have something of his I didn’t mean to take. Now I need to get it back to him,” Jenna explained.
Something of her ex’s? Charlene held her breath.
“The thing is, this package that I need to get to my ex, I can’t mail it.”
Charlene let out the breath she’d been holding. “We’re not talking drugs here, right?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Jenna said quickly. “It’s just some papers I didn’t mean to take.” She sighed. “It’s a long story. But I thought if I could get them to my apartment, I could call him and tell him where to pick them up.” She paused. “You know, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
Papers. Right. “Look, are you sure you shouldn’t go to the cops? What am I saying? You already went to them. They can’t protect you from him. Hey, I can get him the papers. Just tell me where to pick them up.”
Silence. For a moment Charlene was afraid Jenna had hung up.
“Charlene, I’m not in Seattle. It’s too far and you can’t—”
“Hey, what are friends for? And it’s not like I’m doing anything.” She glanced wistfully at her soap opera. “I’ve even got wheels. A friend sold me her used car when she traded up.” A small lie. At least for the moment. “And I’m up for a road trip. What else do I have to do? Just tell me how to get to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Charlene found a pen and turned over one of the bill envelopes on her coffee table. “Just give me directions.”
“Well, there is one small problem,” Jenna said, and explained about the bridge and the flooding.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to get through by the time I reach there,” Charlene said.
“It will be good to see you.”
JENNA AND FRANCO. Lorenzo couldn’t believe how well this was all working out. Not that he could see Jenna with Franco. Not in a million years. But if Valencia found Jenna first, then he would find her with the duffel bag full of money. What else would he think? No matter what she said, Valencia wouldn’t believe her.
And if Lorenzo managed to find Jenna first?
Little chance of that happening. Alfredo hadn’t been able to locate her. Jenna could be miles from here by now. But didn’t that mean Valencia wouldn’t be able to trace her, either?
Lorenzo breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t have planned this better.
His cell phone rang. He flipped it open, stared at the caller ID and smiled. Lady luck was shining on him today. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Dante?” said the female voice. There was a mocking lilt to the way she said the mister that he didn’t like.
“Charlene,” he said, and waited. The last time she’d called it was to tell him that Jenna had taken off. By that time, he’d already figured it out. He had wondered why Charlene hadn’t phoned sooner with the information. Wasn’t that what he was paying her for?
“I just heard from Jenna,” she said into the silence.
Well, maybe setting Charlene Palmer up in the same apartment complex to spy on his ex-wife hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all. Charlene had befriended Jenna, as she’d been hired to do. But up until this minute, she hadn’t given him anything that had been worth her rent, let alone paying all her expenses so she could sit around on her butt.
“She wants me to meet her,” Charlene said. “I told her I have a car.”
Lorenzo
’s smile faded. “A car?”
“How else could I meet her?”
She was holding out for a car? He thought about driving over to the apartment complex and showing her how he felt about extortion.
Charlene hadn’t been wild about doing his bidding to begin with. But what choice did she have, with her brother in prison? Stan Palmer had worked for Lorenzo until he got caught hijacking a semi load of electronics. Lorenzo had the ability to make Stan’s life in prison even less enjoyable if Charlene didn’t do what Lorenzo wanted.
“A car,” he said again. “What kind of car?”
“A newer model used one,” Charlene said.
“Not a brand-new one?” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
She chuckled. “Now what would a woman like me be doing with a fancy new car?”
“Where is my ex-wife?” he snapped, tired of this.
“She says she has something that she took by mistake and wants to return to you. Some…papers? I’m to pick up the package as soon as I get a car and drive to where she is.”
His money. Jenna wanted to return his money? He shook his head in amazement. She did have a brain. Not that returning his money was going to save her. If she thought that, then she was out of her mind.
And no way was he letting Charlene Palmer within a mile of that duffel bag. He’d never see her or the money or his newer model used car again. “I’ll meet her. Just give me the address.”
“It isn’t going down that way. If anyone else comes, she’ll skip and you can forget whatever it is she took from you,” Charlene said. “You want it back? Then we do this her way.”
Lorenzo gripped the cell phone so hard he heard it crack. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” he demanded.
“Oh, yeah,” Charlene said with another chuckle. “And so does your ex. I have to wonder why she would give you anything back. Must be pretty important.”
Lorenzo swore under his breath. “If I have to come over there—”
“You really think I’d still be here?” There was a sound as if she was starting to hang up.
