Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (22 page)

“I know what you were going to say . . . And I meant don’t say it.” Now she’d turned icy, harsh.

“Jenna, what’s going on?”

“Well, isn’t that the million dollar question.”

“Are you okay? Has something happened?”

“You tell me, Ben.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.” He began to pace now, ran a hand through his hair as confusion and frustration mounted.

“I’m not your honey.” A sting, a barb in the heart. His own anger, one borne of pain, began to bubble. "Who killed Perry? Do you know who did it, Ben? Who murdered my children’s pet.”

He gaped, stopped pacing. “Someone killed the bird?”

“Yes. Someone killed the bird, and I’m inclined to think you might know who that someone is.”

And there it was, understanding dawning. But there was no way—
no way
, right?—that she could actually believe he had something to do with this.

Had she lost her marbles? Maybe she was still in shock.

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, not knowing what she and the kids had suffered yet, he decided to comfort instead of confront. “Did you call the police?”

“Of course I called the police. As a matter of fact, they’re here now. Cleaning up the mess some psycho left behind and questioning my sweet children who came up on the bloody scene.”

“Dear God . . . ” Ben let out a heavy sigh, shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s right. They saw everything. So I’m telling you, and you get the message to whoever needs to hear it, that today's vicious act meant to terrorize me also traumatized my children. And I won’t stand for that.”

“You shouldn’t.”

She was silent now, her temper evident in her audible breathing. Ben still had no idea where this was going, why she was attacking him, or what in the world was going through her mind, so he shifted the conversation, lightened his tone. “We can reschedule dinner. Unless you’re hungry, or need to get out, then we’ll hold off as long as you need.”

“No dinner, Ben. No anything with me and you again. Got it?”

“What are you saying, Jenna? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m saying until you showed up, my life was pretty normal. Stalker free, car chase free. No dead birds. No marred photos. Is it coincidence that all this whirled in when you did too?” Her fiery words spewed through the phone, singeing his ear, burning his heart.

Too hurt and shocked to defend himself, he breathed, “I don’t know.”

“What? You don’t know? So you’re confessing? Would you like to talk to Officer Cooley? He’s here.”

“No, Jenna, I’m not confessing. I’m just confused. I’m ashamed I fell for someone who’d hurt me and misjudge me like this. What you’re accusing me of is insane.”

“Oh, don’t go make me look like the bad guy.
You
came on to me.
You
pursued me.
You
brought yourself into my life. Now I’m suffering.”

The anger bubbled over now, boiled the sorrow, scorched the hurt to resentment. “You’re not the bad guy. Crazy, maybe, but not the bad guy. That’s some other prick wrecking your life. But I will give you one confession—it sure isn’t me. And for you to think otherwise tells me I’m not so smart in who I fall for.”

With that, knowing there was nothing left to say, not even caring if there was, he terminated the call.

This, he thought, stalking around his compact living room, this could be the very reason the good Lord had kept him away from the God-forsaken thing called love all these years.

He pivoted, found Heidi and his parents staring, mouths all but hanging open.

He marched from living room to kitchen to dining area, through the cozy entry to the front door and growled, “Dinner’s off,” before the screen door slammed behind him.

SEVENTEEN

It had been just over a week since Jenna ravaged Ben’s character.

And she was miserable.

The day’s had been bombarded with constant movement and plans. Her usual work load, plus ongoing police communication, nightly checks on her children who were bunking at Robin’s, and finalizing future custody times with Keith, who'd made the big move two days ago, had left little time to stop and breathe, much less agonize over her plight.

But she’d managed it anyway.

Layered atop all the maddening busyness (not to mention the very real danger hovering) was the continual awareness that there was only one person to blame for her misery, and she could stare at them in the mirror anytime.

Out of her own stubborn stupidity, she’d thrown away the life she’d always wanted. A life that, virtually two weeks ago, had been sitting in her lap. All she’d had to do was take it, seize it and the man who offered it, and never let go.

Instead, she heaved it off a large cliff, never to be seen again.

It had taken very little time and only a few moments of settling down, clearing her head, to know Ben had nothing to do with anything that happened. But by then it was too late. Damage done. Man gone. Relationship ended.

Not only did she ruin something beautiful, something she’d always dreamed of, she’d pushed away one of her best allies in a time she needed trust and loyalty most.

Ben was a good man, and even before the madness had begun, he was a doer, a worker, a gentleman. When things began to spiral down, he stayed strong, was a shoulder to lean on, a smart mind to bounce ideas off of.

And she’d hurt him, accused of him of the worst. She’d done what he feared and predicted—she hadn't trusted him. And it proved to be their undoing.

All this time, over all these years, she’d vowed to be cautious, clear-headed, smart, when she finally entered into a serious relationship again. And she’d failed herself. Let her fear take over her logic. Let her head speak instead of her heart.

Let the stupid, cruel acts of a lunatic push her to push away love.

As Robin padded into the lamp-lit living room, Jenna thanked her lucky stars she still had some friends left. At least she’d been sane enough not to accuse them too. Which surprised her in a way, considering all the ridiculous scenarios she finagled to make the guilty yoke fit Ben.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Robin handed Jenna a delicate pink ceramic cup, took the matching seat across from Jenna in a set of bright, bold patterned chairs. "You look so miserable
I
can’t even take it anymore.”

Jenna attempted a smile. “I’m trying, Robin.”

“It’s been over a week since the last incident, Jen. And the kids have been fine here . . . safe, happy.”

Jenna nodded absently, stared into her cup of green tea. “I know. And you know I appreciate that. Because they’re safe, I can focus on other . . . worries.” She set her cup on the little side table, pressed her fingers to her eyelids. “He hasn’t contacted me in nine days . . . and why should he?”

“I hate to, but I agree with you. You did accuse the guy of some pretty hefty stuff.” Robin chuckled lightly.

Instead of joining in, Jenna’s eyes filled with tears.

“No, no, no,” Robin shook her head swiftly. “Don’t you do that. You know when you start, I do too.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re right. So right. I’m a complete and total jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk. You’ve had some really heavy, scary things going on lately. You panicked, as would anyone when their children are involved in a fright like that.”

“Yes, but I was also stupid, and a jerk. What have I done?” Jenna moaned.

Abruptly, Robin popped up, said, “One second,” before scurrying off to the kitchen. “Stashed in case of emergencies." She held up a bottle of wine, poured a glass for each of them. “This will do more justice than the tea I think.”

She gathered the pink cups, set them on a tray, slid it on the cushioned ottoman and relaxed back in the chair again with her glass. “Now, in answer to your question, what you did
was
stupid.”

She was not only a friend, Jenna mused, but an honest one.

“Good news, though. You’re not stupid. See, a stupid act by a smart person can be fixed, since of course, the person is smart. They’ll come up with a solution, like you will.” Robin raised her glass, tipped it toward Jenna. “Stupidity can’t be fixed. Stupid person does a stupid thing . . . well, they're screwed.”

Jenna laughed, took a generous swallow of wine. “And this,” she declared, “is why you’re my best friend.”

She took a finger, brushed at her damp lashes. “So, did you wonder how I was able to come tonight, breaking the police rules and all?”

“It crossed my mind.”

Jenna rose, walked to the picture window, motioned for Robin to follow. “When I talked with Officer Cooley yesterday he said it’d be fine if I wanted to stop by this weekend.”

Interested, Robin joined Jenna, looked out into the night. “Doesn’t that do exactly what we’re trying to avoid though——make it obvious where the kids are? Aren’t they concerned someone is watching you.”

“They are.” Jenna put her finger to the pane. “See that car by the turnoff? Cops.”

“Really? I never would’ve noticed.”

“I think that’s the point, genius.”

Robin rolled her eyes, elbowed Jenna. “You’re a jerk, know that?”

Jenna’s face fell and she moved away from the window.

“Oh, come on,” Robin pleaded, “I was joking.”

“I know,” Jenna said on a sigh, grabbing her glass, taking a gulp and sinking into the deep gray sofa.

Robin plopped beside her. “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, too. You’re hurting. I was trying to make you smile. Bad timing.”

There was a comfortable silence between them as they sat, sipped their wine beside one another.

“Robin?”

“Yep?”

“I love him.” The tears sprang again.

“I know.” Robin moved her hand to Jenna’s leg, patted. “All the more reason to make things right.”

EIGHTEEN

Tonight was the big night. She’d told no one. Not even Robin. What was being done had to be her decision and come from her heart only.

She’d informed the people she had to, of course. She’d called Officer Cooley, told him where she’d be for the evening and that her children wouldn't be at Robin’s, so surveillance could be lifted there.

She was mildly surprised and considerably pleased that Cooley’d made the decision to keep a car posted at Robin’s while her kids stayed there. While he and Lieutenant Parks (a new addition to her case since Detective Rogers had gone on "extended vacation” accordingly to Cooley) agreed that whoever was responsible for the incidents was not targeting Jacy and Dawson, they had also agreed it was wise to be cautious.

They relayed what Jenna deduced herself: hurt the child and the parent suffers too, maybe even more.

So Perry’s death was not for the kids, but for Jenna. The violence proved who was in charge, showed who had the power. It was done to provoke, to watch Jenna squirm at the grotesque nature of the crime.

And to Jenna’s mind, it was a way of reminding her of the threat . . .
You don’t deserve what you have. And it could all be taken away.

Both Cooley and Lieutenant Parks didn’t have any more ideas on suspects or motives than Jenna (the picture hadn’t produced any solid leads), except that the person or persons were aiming to break Jenna down by a series of harassments and torments.

She wasn’t anticipating giving the psycho that satisfaction. No more breakdowns. The last one had gotten her in an awful situation . . . one she hoped to remedy tonight.

She needed to take just a few more steps to set her plan in motion. She’d already covered the home base days ago and had her inside man—or woman more accurately—there, now she needed a helping hand on the work front.

Glancing over a staff schedule mounted on a corkboard in her office, she moved to her desk phone, roamed down the extension list until she found Leigh Gonzalez.

She punched twenty-two, smiled as Leigh’s composed voice answered.

“Leigh. Hey, it’s Jenna.”

“Hi, Jenna. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a little bargain for you, you up?”

“Don’t know. Let me in on it and I’ll decide.” Leigh’s voice swayed with humor and Jenna could all but see her pretty face and calm eyes warm with it.

If there was anyone Jenna felt confident enough to ask to perform and execute her job properly, it was Leigh. A fifty-something nurse who worked in the central area of the clinic, Leigh passed out birth control, taught safe sex classes, and administered STD, HIV, and pregnancy tests. She dealt with a lot of stress and doled out heavy and often times heartbreaking news with compassion, dignity and level-headedness. She was a real trooper. Patients loved her, and so did Jenna.

In fact, she’d been Jenna’s mentor when Jenna first started at Hearts and Hands, showing her the ropes, educating and encouraging on how to handle stress, sensitive situations, and difficult patients and circumstances the clinic often faced. Jenna owed Leigh much, and hoped today, she could count on her to do just one more favor.