Crime & Passion (32 page)

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes meeting
his again. “Not jealous. Curious, I guess. Tell me about her. Why
did you have to be Mom and Dad to other kids?”

Donovan hopped up from the bed, feeling the
need to pace. This was the first time around Madeline he felt the
restless need to be on the move, have a quick escape ready. Maybe
it was the judging look in her eyes.

“My parents died when I was seven,” he said,
trying to keep any emotion from his voice. “There was a car
accident. I was the only survivor. It was my fault. I wanted ice
cream. Dad said no, but Mom talked him into it when I threw a
tantrum. They died because of me, and I didn’t even get to die with
them.”

Madeline gasped and he risked a quick look in
her direction. The judgment had left her face, replaced by shock
and pity. That was almost worse.

“I’m sorry, Donovan.” She sighed and stood
up, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head against his
shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself, though. Accidents happen
sometimes.”

“That’s what Maddie always told me,” he
said.

Madeline’s body stiffened in his arms. “So,
she helped you heal? How did you come to meet her?”

She sounded almost wooden. It had to be
because of Madison. Madeline was warm and loving when he told her
about Benny before. This wasn’t like her. He had to make her
understand somehow. Madison was the only reason Donovan kept going
in life sometimes. If it wasn’t for the promise he made her, he
would have given up a long time ago.

Now, he had Madeline, someone to make all the
years of pain and loneliness worthwhile; someone to help him
fulfill that promise to Madison and find happiness, all at the same
time.

Donovan slipped out of Madeline’s embrace to
return to his pacing, not wanting to feel the tension from her as
he related his story. “Madison already lived on the strawberry farm
I went to after I ran away from the group foster home.”

“You ran away from a foster home? Why?”

He shook his head. “I figured I was better
off alone. I’d been in and out of four different foster homes,
never finding anyone willing to adopt me. The group home sucked. I
never had a single minute by myself and the older boys were
bullies.” He thought of the pranks they used to pull: stealing his
clothes, ruining the food he was supposed to eat, hitting him when
no one was looking. He shrugged at Madeline. “I couldn’t handle it,
so I ran away.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen. I only lived on the streets for
three months before Father Jim found me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “
Father
Jim?”

Donovan thought about the older man. He’d
seemed like a giant from Donovan’s adolescent perspective. Muscled
arms, fat belly, gray handlebar mustache covering a mouth more
likely to grimace than grin.

“He promised the world. Said I’d get three
meals a day, a warm bed, clothes, and a family. I was so hungry by
that time, I was desperate.” He looked down at the floor. “It
sounded like a dream come true. All I had to do was work in his
strawberry fields and live the easy life.”

“What really happened?”

“He used homeless kids as free labor. In the
summer, sometimes it would get so hot that kids passed out in the
fields. There was never any shade and no breaks. We worked the
whole day or we didn’t get the one meal at night he allowed us.”
Donovan closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the memory
of the constant hunger and the fear of angering Jim. “There were
twenty kids on the farm, ranging in ages from seven to ten. I was
the oldest. Madison was only a year younger than me and the only
girl.”

“Twenty kids!” He glanced up at her, and she
shook her head. “What about child labor laws? Didn’t anyone ask
what he was doing with so many kids?”

“There weren’t child labor laws thirty years
ago. Besides, we were far away from other houses, miles away. I
don’t think anyone even knew we were all out there.”

“But he had to sell the fruit somehow.”

“Every weekend during growing season he took
two of us boys into town with him. We called him Father Jim. People
assumed it was a family business and we were his kids.”

“But why...” She licked her lips and shook
her head slightly.

Clearly she had something on her mind. “What?
You may as well ask.”

“It’s just...why didn’t you run away when you
were in town or tell an adult what was happening?”

Donovan ran his hand across his face, feeling
the sting of tears pricking the backs of his eyes. “If I ran away,
I didn’t know if anyone would believe my story. I couldn’t just
leave Maddie out there with Jim.”

“No. Of course you couldn’t.” She nodded
once. “How long did you live there?”

“A little over two years. Madison usually
stayed up at the house while we boys worked in the fields. She had
to cook and clean—womanly arts, Father Jim said. He was a real
piece of work, always beating on the young kids whenever something
frustrated him. By the time I got there, Madison had already
figured out ways to keep his rage and anger directed at her, so the
younger children were relatively unharmed.”

Madeline gasped. “He beat you guys? Her?”

Donovan shrugged. “Only when he was drunk, or
when his favorite team lost a big game, or when his wife made a
mistake and pissed him off.”

Madeline sat on the edge of the bed. “So,
every day?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged. “His wife helped
us when she could, but she couldn’t control him. She tried to do
nice things when Jim wasn’t around. She’s the one who took that
picture.”

Madeline snorted. “How useful. She took
pictures and left it to poor Madison to stand up to Jim.”

Donovan heard something different in her
voice, perhaps respect for Madison instead of resentment. He tried
to calm himself down; thinking of everything Madison went through
always upset him. He breathed deeply through his nose a few times
before speaking again.

“Madison got to the farm six months before
me. She told me Jim beat one of the youngest kids so bad the first
week she lived with him that the boy died. They buried him in the
field behind the house.” Donovan paused, remembering Madison’s
scared brown eyes as she told him the story. “She realized then how
serious things were and how much danger all the children were
in.”

“That must have been terrifying for her.”

“Actually, Maddie was feisty.” He paused and
glanced at Madeline. “A lot like you, really. It pissed her off. As
the oldest there, she decided it was up to her to protect the
younger kids. Any time one of them was in Jim’s line of fire and
she was around, she did something to distract him...or piss him
off. If it came down to it, she took the beatings meant for the
other child.”

Madeline blinked rapidly, a few tears
coursing down her face. “That was very brave of her. How old was
she again, twelve?”

He nodded, thinking back on that time,
remembering the fire Madison had in her young spirit. “I lived with
her for two years. She made so many plans for the future and a
better life. She said she loved me, so we could get married and
take the kids away from Jim when we got a little older. Then, we
could raise them in a loving home. I agreed. There weren’t any
places worse than that house.” He shuddered. “I often dreamed of
just running away, but Madison wouldn’t come with me. She refused
to leave the kids, and all of us knew how hard living on the
streets was.”

“That must have been so hard for you. So much
responsibility.”

“I wanted to save them all, but what could I
do? Three months on the streets and I nearly starved to death by
myself. Until I was older and could get a good job, I knew I
couldn’t provide for twenty mouths. At least Jim let us sleep in
the barn on some hay with blankets and we usually got one meal each
day.”

“Which was better than what you had on the
streets?”

He thought about all the times he’d climbed
into dumpsters after going days without any food at all, hoping to
find something to fill his hollow stomach. He’d been sick all the
time from eating food that had gone bad. There was never clean
water in the city. Every water fountain he found always seemed to
be turned off or broken. Eventually, when he became thirsty enough,
he’d drink whatever he could find. One memorable time he shared a
puddle of filthy water with a stray dog.

Though he kept trying to convince himself it
was better than the foster home, Donovan knew deep down he’d made a
mistake. The other homeless people were jealous of everything they
had and more likely to steal any meager possessions Donovan
acquired than protect him or help him.

He met Madeline’s eyes. “As bad as Jim was,
yes, the streets were worse.”

She reached out and caught his hand as he
paced past, squeezing his fingers and pulling him to her. She stood
and kissed him. “No one should have to go through that. You and
Madison were brave kids.”

He sighed and relaxed into her. There was
nothing for Madeline to fear from Madison, and it seemed she now
understood that. He took her in his arms, kissing her deeply and
pushing her onto the bed. He lay next to her and wrapped her in his
arms. Madeline crossed her leg over his, the silk of her robe
moving against his bare skin as she settled herself against his
chest.

“What happened to Madison?” she asked
softly.

Donovan closed his eyes, inhaling the scent
of Madeline’s hair, fighting against going back to that dark place.
The place Madison died.

“Madison and I worked hard. We kept the kids
as clean as we could, brushed their hair, stole food from the
pantry whenever Jim’s wife was too injured to help make the evening
meal.”

“So Jim beat his wife too?”

Donovan clutched her tighter, unable to keep
his tears at bay any longer as memories flooded through him. “He
was the meanest man ever, Madeline. If I’d been able to see any
other way to protect the kids, I would have taken it, but I was
worried other adults would ignore my accusations and believe Jim’s
lies.”

“You were just a kid. Of course you didn’t
know what to do.” She clutched him to her chest while he cried.
“You did everything you could.”

“Not everything. I should have told someone
before Jim went too far.” Emotion thickened his voice, but Donovan
forced himself to go on. “In the two years I lived there, I tried
to take most of the beatings Jim delivered, but sometimes Madison
still got caught up in a fight and hurt. That last evening, I
wasn’t even inside the house when it started. I was mowing the yard
while Maddie cooked dinner.”

He sniffed as he once again saw the younger
kids running out the door, screaming at him. ‘He’s killing her!’
they’d shouted. When Donovan realized what they said, he’d raced
into the house. Madison screamed so loud. It wasn’t her normal,
defiant yells designed to distract Jim when he was on one of the
other kids.

“Her cries filled the house. Blood-curdling
screams of pain.” His voice cracked and he coughed, trying to force
the words past the heaviness of tears clogging his throat. “He was
on top of her, had her pinned to the couch. He was punching her
face over and over again.” Donovan stopped, fighting to keep down
the bile rising in his throat. “She was covered in blood. I had
never seen anything so horrible in my life. He just kept punching
her, and I couldn’t stop him.”

“He beat her to death?” Madeline asked, her
voice shaky.

He squeezed her tighter, unable to
answer.

Madison screamed again as Donovan entered
the room. ‘Help me!’ She twisted her head toward him. One eye was
swollen shut and the rest of her face looked like so much raw meat
with blood covering everything. ‘Please, please, help me.’

Four gouges down Jim’s face attested to the
fact that Madison hadn’t gone down without a fight.

Rage flooded through Donovan’s veins and he
rushed Jim. The man outweighed him by hundreds of pounds, but
Donovan leapt onto his back. He locked his arm around Jim’s neck,
intent on choking the life out of him. The smell of alcohol on him
was overpowering.

Jim scratched at Donovan’s arms and got to
his feet. He slammed their bodies into the wall behind them,
bouncing Donovan’s head against the wood paneling. Dazed, Donovan
lost his grip and fell to the floor.

“
Sh-stay off me, boy,” he slurred, “unless
you want the same treatment.” Jim loomed over him, swaying on his
feet. “I’m tired of her bullshit. She’s got to learn a
lesh-leshion.”

Jim jumped onto Maddie again, wrapping his
sausage-like fingers around her throat.

She struggled for a few seconds, thrashing
her legs beneath Jim’s bulk. Donovan lurched to his feet through
his dizziness. He clawed at Jim’s hands, trying to loosen them so
she could breathe. Maddie’s flailing arm hit Donovan in the stomach
and his eyes met the one she could still open. The light in it
already seemed to be fading. Before long, her struggles
stopped.

‘
That’ll teach you to sass me.’ Jim’s
fingers relaxed around her neck. ‘Get up, girl. That’s punishment
enough.’

Madison didn’t move, didn’t take a
breath.

Tears splashed down Donovan’s face as he
hugged his friend’s body. ‘I won’t forget our promises,’ he
whispered to her still form. ‘I love you, Maddie.’

Donovan turned his head into the pillow
behind him, crying into it.

Madeline moved his face toward hers with
gentle hands, clearing away his tears. “You don’t have to tell me
the rest, if you don’t want to.”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell,” he
got out past the tears. “Jim strangled her, and I couldn’t stop
him. At least he couldn’t cover that up. I ran away the next
morning and hitchhiked into town. Once I found a cop, I took him to
where we buried Madison’s body the night before.” He rubbed at the
tears on his cheeks. “Jim’s rotting in jail now. He will be for the
rest of his miserable life.”