Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
Renee had good points. And obviously had given the matter a lot of thought. Clear thought.
“I'm under no illusions where my son's treatment of me is concerned,” she said as Jenna continued to stand over their half-eaten meal. “But neither can I walk away. He's my son.”
Jenna had fought too hard and too long to accept that there were options other than leaving. Hope kept you captive.
“Do you have any children?”
The question shot at her out of the blue. Two days after she'd nearly fallen apart at the sight of her son.
And she realized too late that her silence was answer to Renee just as earlier Renee's silence had been answer to Jenna.
“One? Two?”
With her hands gripping the back of her chair she said, “One.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“Is he safe?”
“Yes.” She answered with absolute conviction. And as long as she stayed away, Caleb would continue to be safe.
“And if he wasn't, you'd do whatever it took, sacrifice your life if that's what it took, to try to help him to safety, wouldn't you?”
Jenna knew by the knowing look in Renee's eyes that Renee knew she'd won this round. The older woman just had no idea how close to home her words had hit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“W
E
HAVE
TO
get that arm looked at,” Jenna picked her half-eaten salad and bowl off the table and carried it to the undermount stainless-steel sink in the bungalow's decent-size kitchen. Granite countertops completed the elegant space.
Shaking her head, Renee stood, too, though a bit more stiffly than Jenna had, more stiffly than a woman in her mid-sixties should have needed to, and Jenna figured she was witnessing years' worth of beatings in the other woman's slow-to-move body.
Renee's abuse had to stop. The woman deserved so much better.
“You've been at the shelter for how long? Six weeks?”
“About that.”
“And no one knows you saw Brian Sunday.”
“That's right.”
“So why would the shelter's nurse have to report an injury sustained while you were apart from your abuser?”
“She's going to ask what happened.”
“From the way Carly talks about her, I don't think Lynn will press for any answers that aren't critical to your immediate safety and physical health.”
After they rinsed their bowls and Jenna helped Renee straighten up the rest of the kitchen, Jenna hung up her towel and looped her arm through Renee's good one. “Come on,” she said. “I'll be there with you and I'll answer anything you can't.”
Lynn didn't press Renee for any answers she wasn't willing to give. She'd gone to the park in town Sunday afternoon and come back with an arm that needed attention, and no, she didn't need to have the police called. There had been no surprise visits from her abuser. And her injury had been caused by pressure to the arm. She'd gone on to say that perhaps she had osteoporosis, a hypothesis that Lynn didn't react to one way or another as she x-rayed and taped Renee's cracked, but not broken, bone.
Lynn's parting remark, “Make sure you bring up the incident in your session with Sara this week,” was the only indication that she suspected the whole truth wasn't being told in that room that night.
Jenna walked Renee home and wondered if any of them would ever live a life free from the secrets they all kept safe.
* * *
M
AX
PRETENDED
TO
himself that he was surprised when Chantel showed up shortly after he'd put Caleb down for the night on Tuesday. He'd known his first wife's best friend was off duty at three that afternoon.
“If you'd said you were driving all this way, I'd have told you not to,” he said in greeting as he opened the door to her.
She came into the house as though she'd been doing so for years, the bag over her shoulder telling him she was planning on staying the night.
“Why do you think I didn't let you know?” she asked, dropping her duffle bag on the floor of the living room.
“You've heard something, haven't you?”
She nodded. “This afternoon. My friend on the Santa Raquel force, he called and said he'd been talking to another guy in the locker room this morning. He'd just asked the guy to keep an unofficial lookout for Meredith. He showed him her picture, and the guy recognized her. He'd seen her at a bus stop on Sunday not far from the beach.... She had on a hat, but he was sure it was her....”
Chantel continued to talk as all of the blood drained from Max's face. He felt it go. And could count his pulse without feeling for it, as it roared through his ears.
She'd been there.
Caleb
had
seen his mother. “She'd been running, Max, and tripped.”
Running because Caleb had seen her? Or running because someone was after her?
He was elatedâsurely it hadn't been a coincidence that she'd been at the beach during their regularly scheduled family time. And he was also more worried than everâshe'd been running from something.
“Did he see where she went? Who she was with? Did he talk to her?”
Chantel sat on the edge of the sofa that Meri had picked out and, with her fingers lightly threaded together said, “He asked her if she was okay, she said she was, and ran off to catch the bus.”
So she'd been running for the bus? Not running from something?
“Which bus? Where was it headed?”
She named the street.
“That's downtown. Only six or seven miles from here....” Santa Raquel wasn't that big. “It means that she's close,” he said, taking the seat next to Chantel, turning to look at her as his mind raced in various directions. “She's never stayed close before when she ran. Does that mean Steve's not after her? Or that he has her and is holding her someplace close by?”
“She was alone when the cop saw her. Got on the bus alone.”
“Steve could have been watching.”
“Not likely. Why would he let her get on a bus by herself? She could have alerted anyone. Gotten off at any stop.”
“Maybe he was already on the bus.”
“Then why would she get on it? Why not alert the cop when she tripped and he stopped to help her?”
He couldn't answer that.
“You told me Sunday night that you were at the beach that afternoon,” Chantel said slowly, watching him. “You said Caleb saw her.”
“That's right. And obviously he did. She knows we go to that beach every Sunday. It was her idea to begin with. She was there to see us, Chantel, I'm sure of it.”
“Then why not wait and say hello?”
“Because Steve had to have been with her. Someplace. He had to have been watching her. Or she was afraid he was.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to make sure that you two were getting along fine without her as she moves on with her life. It's clear that she loved the two of you, Max. Even if leaving is the right thing to do for her, it still has to be hard. I understand how difficult this is for you, too, Max, but maybe you have to face that it's you she didn't want to see.”
“You said she was running for the bus.”
“Yeah.”
“What woman does that unless she's either late for an appointment or afraid?”
“She was afraid you were going to see her, to force her into a conversation she isn't ready to have. Or maybe she'd seen what she'd come to see and didn't want to have to wait around for the next bus.”
Her words made him angry, even while Max knew that she was just doing what he'd asked her to do. Find Meri. Find the truth.
“You don't know her.”
“Has it occurred to you that you might not know her as well as you thought you did, either?”
Hell, yes, it had occurred to him. Every day since she'd disappeared on him without a word. After promising that she'd do everything she could not to break his heart....
And then he'd climb into their bed at night, smell her perfume on their sheets, her shampoo on her pillow, and careful not to touch either, so they didn't lose that scent, he'd lie there next to her space and know that whatever Meri was doing, it was because she loved him.
Steve had to have threatened her somehow. He didn't know how. When. Where. And sure as hell couldn't explain why she hadn't wanted him or Caleb to see her. Unless, as he'd thought before, she thought she was somehow protecting them. It didn't really make sense, not when he knewâand had told her often enoughâthat his police connections would keep them all safe.
“You have to find her, Chantel,” he said now, more certain than he'd been since Meri had disappeared that she needed him. “She's in trouble. I know she is.”
“That's what I'm here to tell you, my friend. We did find her.”
* * *
J
ENNA
WAS
ON
her way home from walking Renee back to her bungalow Tuesday night when her cell phone rang. She'd already spoken with Yvonne, Olivia's mother, and knew that the little girl had come through surgery just fine. She'd agreed to meet with the two of them on Thursday at the home of a woman Yvonne had met through work for Olivia's first therapy session.
And Yvonne didn't have her cell number.
No one did. Except for Lila.
The managing director wanted Jenna to come to her office.
The other woman's invitation didn't include tea. It sounded formal.
With her heart in her throat, Jenna hurried over.
And felt her stomach cramp as she entered the room to find a uniformed police officer standing there.
Something had happened to Max. Or Caleb. They were there to tell her that she'd lost everything in the world that was dear to her....
She felt as if she was going to faint. Sat down. Unable to breathe. And folded her hands together, reminding herself that she wasn't weak.
And no one knew where she was, or who she was.
The officer looked at a picture in his hand. “Are you Meredith Bennet?” the officer, about forty with graying hair at his temples and a kind expression on his face, asked.
“Has there been an accident?” The words came out on a squeak. She coughed and repeated them. More clearly.
“An accident?”
“Are you here to tell me that....” Her throat was so dry the words wouldn't come. “Has there been an accident?” she repeated, aware that Lila stood just off to her right, with one hundred percent focus.
“No, ma'am. Not that I'm aware of. Were you in an accident?” the officer asked gently, as though he was proceeding with utmost caution. Sizing up the situation.
And suddenly she was scared to death. Steve had sent this man. He'd found her and this was his way of saying so.
He wasn't going to wait for her to move out of the shelter this time.
“Jenna...are you Meredith Bennet?” Lila came forward, sat next to her, not touching her, but seeming to hold her up at the same time.
Not that Jenna needed holding. She didn't. “I'm Jenna McDonald.”
“Yes, I know. But....”
“So you aren't Meredith Bennet?” the officer said, coming closer. Looming over her.
Lila had a gun. Jenna might be the only resident who knew that, but the woman had told her about it the night she'd been in her apartment. The night she'd told Jenna to get to her if she was ever in troubleâno matter what it took.
And when Jenna had tried to find out why the woman had a gun, to find out anything at all about Lila's private life, she'd found herself up against a wall of steel.
“Because if you're not Meredith Bennet, I'm very sorry, ma'am,” the officer continued, backing up a step now. “I didn't mean to upset you....”
She wasn't upset.
“Jenna? You're white as a sheet, dear. Do you feel okay?”
“So you don't know Dr. Max Bennet,” the officer said, almost at the door.
“What do you know about Max?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. So there
had
been an accident. Or Max was ill. Or in trouble. It had been two long days since she'd seen her boys healthy and at play....
This wasn't about Steve.
“You do know Dr. Bennet?” The officer was back again.
“Sir, I think it might be best if you take a seat.” Lila's voice came from her right. The officer was on her left. And Jenna was scared to death.
* * *
“T
HANKS
, W
AYNE
.”
Max stood, hands in the pockets of his purple scrubs, picking at the threads there, while Chantel took the call that had just come in on her phone. Presumably her cop friend on the Santa Raquel police force.
The officer who'd discovered earlier that day that a fellow officer had seen Meredith on Sunday. The one who owed Chantel a favor.
He'd spent a couple of hours going over business surveillance footage nearby the stop where Meredith had vacated the bus.
He'd been going to talk to Meredith.
And then call Chantel. Who wouldn't tell Max where she was.
If she was in a hospital, he'd find out soon enough. As soon as Chantel got off the phone and gave him whatever report she was going to give him.
He was a respected pediatrician who worked with all of the area hospitals, not only the two in Santa Raquel, but those in surrounding cities, as well. His consultation work took him as far as Los Angeles.
“I'll let you know tomorrow,” Chantel was saying.
Max waited. Staring at the laces in his orange tennis shoes as he rocked back and forth on his toes. The high-tops matched the orange-and-purple dinosaur shirt he was wearing.
Color put kids at ease. Put him at ease, too, truth be told. Because some days weren't good. Some days he had to cause pain to make things better. And some days even painful treatments couldn't save a life.
“I will. And yes, lunch sounds great.”
He'd lost a patient that day. A youngster who'd been born premature, had experienced a brain bleed at birth and had suffered permanent neurological damage. The boy had had little chance to survive from the beginning, but he'd hung on for more than two years.
“No, burgers are fine. Really.”
Tommy was at peace. His parents were at peace.
Max still felt as if he'd let them down.
And Chantel was discussing burgers.