Carolina Blues (22 page)

“I’m sorry.” Jane rolled softened gum paste between her hands before pressing it into a shell mold. “I wondered when he didn’t come in the past two days.”

“We’re sort of . . . taking a break,” Lauren confessed. “We’re not fighting, though.”

You couldn’t fight with somebody who didn’t call.

“So it’s not . . .” Jane broke off, focused on teasing the shell out of its mold with an X-Acto knife.

“What?”

Jane bit her lip. “It’s gossip. It’s nothing.”

“Which only motivates me to badger you until you crack.”

“Well . . .” Jane brushed the back of the shell with water. “Jack’s wife was in Slice of Heaven last night.”

The pizza place. “So?” There were lots of reasons Renee might have stuck around the island, Lauren told herself. Like . . . Like . . .

“She said she was picking up dinner for Jack.” Jane focused on her delicate task as if she was afraid of making a mistake. Or wanted to avoid witnessing Lauren’s pain. “And George Evans says somebody saw her leaving Jack’s boat last night.”

That jabbed, right at the heart.

Lauren ignored the pain, took a breath. Because she trusted Jack. She did. She believed in him, in the kind of man he was, even if at the moment he didn’t have much faith in her. “His
ex
-wife,” she muttered.

Jane slid her a cautious look. “Okay.”

“Anyway, she’s not the problem.”

Jack was. The dummy.

“Exes are always a problem,” Jane said.

Something in her tone pricked through Lauren’s bubble of misery. “Jane? What’s wrong?”

Jane pressed the paste shell gently to the fondant-covered model without answering.

“Is it Travis? Have you heard from him?”

Jane stepped back to assess the cake decorations, her face pale and stiff as a china doll’s. “He didn’t go to Florida.”

“Oh, Jane. Is there anything I can do?”

“Like what?”

Good question
. “You should talk to Jack.”

“What can he do? It’s not like Travis threatened me. At least . . .”

“Has he tried to contact Aidan?”

Jane’s throat moved as she swallowed. Nodded.

“Then you should definitely tell Jack. As long as you have custody—”

“I don’t,” Jane whispered.

“What?”

“I got the divorce myself. Travis was away. He never signed a custody agreement. He has a right to see Aidan. He has a right to do anything he wants.”

“Listen, it’s not my job to tell you how to live your life,” Lauren said gently. “But I think you should talk to somebody.”

Jane looked doubtful. “You mean, like a therapist?”

That would help
. But, “I was thinking more like a lawyer,” Lauren said. “What about Luke Fletcher’s wife?”

“Maybe.”

“Think about it,” Lauren urged.

“I will.” Jane peeled another shell from the mold.

“I’m not trying to push you.”

“Yes, you are.” Jane smiled. “But only because you care.”

Lauren laughed even as tears stung her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Honey, don’t cry,” Jane said. “If it means that much to you . . . Of course I’ll call Kate. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, yes, call her, you definitely need to talk to a lawyer, it’s just . . .” Lauren laughed again shakily, blotting her eyes with her fingertips. “He didn’t get it, you know?”

“Who didn’t get what?”

“Jack. We were . . . discussing things, and I was pushing, I know I was pushing, but he won’t let me in. I just wanted to help, I
care
about him, I love him, and he won’t accept my help. He says he doesn’t need my help.”

“Or he doesn’t want to need it,” Jane said.

Lauren stared at her. “That’s it. That’s it exactly.”

Jane nodded. “And then he went on the attack.”

“No, actually, he was kind of sweet. He offered to take me to dinner.” Lauren pulled a little face, ignoring the pang at her heart. “
After
he pointed out that I was the one who was leaving.”

Jane winced in sympathy. “Oh, honey.”

“At least he was honest.” Lauren sighed and snagged another cookie. “And maybe a small part of me would like to believe he’s bothered by my leaving and that’s why he brought it up.”

“Of course he’s bothered.” Jane hesitated. “I suppose you
have
to go?”

“I can’t stay on vacation forever. Sooner or later, I have to face my dissertation committee. And I want to see my family before I go on tour again. I’ll miss the island, though. I’ll miss you.”
And Jack. I’ll really miss Jack
. She bit into her cookie.

Jane’s face turned pink. “I’ll miss you, too. I feel like everybody’s leaving me.”

Lauren nodded in understanding. “All the vacationers.”

“The vacationers. You. Thalia.”

“Jane?” Thalia stuck her head in the door. “I’m taking off now.”

“Where are you going?” Lauren asked.

“To Camille’s.”

Oh, right
. Her babysitting job.

“They want to take me back to France with them,” Thalia volunteered suddenly. “Like study abroad, only they’d be my host family, and I’d help Camille with the kids.”

“Wow. That’s exciting,” Lauren said.

“I know. I mean . . . France, right? I figured the farthest I’d ever get from home was Chapel Hill. I could never afford to go to Europe, and a whole year . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“How do your parents feel about this?” Lauren asked.

“They’re all for it. Dad says it’s a once-in-a-lifetime deal. And Mom’s not really into the whole senior year, prom thing, so that’s okay.”

Mom
isn’t, Lauren thought. “How about you?” she asked gently.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to get away. See the world. Only . . . I thought I’d have another year, you know? Before I had to say good-bye to everybody.”

To Josh, Lauren thought.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said.

“She’s so smart,” Jane said after the girl left. “I hope she doesn’t make a mistake.”

Lauren looked at her quizzically. “You mean, stay? Or go?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Jane sighed. “You don’t realize when you’re her age that you can make a decision that will totally screw up your life.”

“Not just at her age,” Lauren said wryly.

The front bell tinkled.

“I’ll get that,” she said.

A blond guy was standing by the cash register. A tall, blond guy in a stained T-shirt and ripped jeans. He looked up when Lauren walked in, and Lauren’s back tightened. Her heart began to pound.

Travis Tillett. Jane’s ex.

L
AUREN’S PALMS WENT
damp. “Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Where’s Janey?” Travis asked. A demand, not a question.

“She’s busy at the moment.”

“Travis?” Jane’s voice rose sharply on the word. She came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to make sure my boy is taken care of.”

Jane’s soft chin firmed. “I can take care of my son without any help from you.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Travis smiled, exposing too many yellowing teeth. “You can’t do jack shit. Because I got him in my truck.”

Every hair on Lauren’s body stood at alert.

“Aidan?” Jane whispered.

“Yeah. Came along no trouble at all.”

“You couldn’t,” Jane said. “He wouldn’t. The camp knows I never pick him up before five. Anyway, you’re not on the list. They’d never release him to you.”

That’s right, Lauren thought. That had to be right. In these days of custody disputes and paranoid parents, schools and camps had to take precautions. Even on Dare Island.

“Didn’t ask them, did I? Boy was standing around while the rest of them played ball. I called his name, told him you were expecting him.”

“Aidan knows not to go with strangers.”

But Lauren knew that to a six-year-old, “stranger” meant something different, someone scary, like a villain in a cartoon. If Travis smiled and called the child by name . . .

Travis grinned. “I’m not a stranger, am I? Anyway, he told me he gets rides all the time. You shouldn’t have raised him to be so trusting, Janey.”

Lauren’s lungs emptied.

“Aidan!” Jane bolted for the door.

Travis grabbed her arm, wrenching a sound of pain from her throat.

Lauren couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The scene took on the flat, bright, jerky motion of a gif, playing over and over on her computer screen.

“I’m sick and tired of living out of my damn truck,” Travis said. “You’ve got a house. You’ve got a business. Well, now, I’ve got our kid. What’s he worth to you?”

“Anything. Everything,” Jane said. “Just don’t take Aidan.”

Travis pushed her behind the counter. “I need cash.”

Do something, Lauren thought. But her feet were glued to the floor, her mind frozen in fear. And maybe it would be all right, maybe he didn’t have Aidan after all, maybe . . .

Jack
. His name hit her brain like a jolt of pure oxygen.

Jack would know what to do.

Her phone was in her purse under the counter, out of reach.
Crap
. “This is obviously a family discussion,” she said, slinking back toward the kitchen. “I’ll just . . .”

“Cash,” Travis snapped to Jane.

Jane fumbled with the register, her hands shaking. Lauren slid between the stainless counters of the work aisle toward the back door.

“Hey, you! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Lauren gasped and smacked her palm on the panic button of the alarm panel by the back door. There was a moment’s silence, while her lungs seized and her blood drummed in her ears.

Then the alarm erupted.

“Fuck!” Travis screamed. “What the fuck did you do, bitch?”

The door
. Lauren grabbed for the doorknob. The sirens blared.
Run, run
 . . .

But Jane cried out behind her and she stopped, jerked back like a marionette by its strings.

“Get back here,” Travis ordered.

Slowly, Lauren turned. Travis was holding Jane’s arm in one hand, a stack of bills in the other.

He scowled. “All the way back. In here.”

Lauren sidled forward, keeping out of his reach, out of his way.

The phone shrilled, jangling under the sirens.

He twitched. “Don’t answer that.”

“If I don’t answer, the police will come,” Jane said.

Lauren closed her eyes a moment.
Oh, Jane
.

But Travis only stuffed the bills into his jeans pocket. “Let ’em come. I’m out of here.”

“What about Aidan?” Jane said. “Where’s Aidan?”

“I’m taking him with me.”

“No!” Jane cried. “I gave you the money.”

“And you’ll send me more after we’re gone, right?” He grinned horribly. “Child support.”

“Aidan!” She struggled against his hold.

Travis shoved her away from him, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

Lauren’s lungs constricted. The sirens blared.
Save me
, she thought, but there wasn’t time.

She would have to do the saving herself.

She scrambled through the tables and threw herself in front of the door.

“Move it, bitch.”

She gulped for air. “You really don’t want a child on the road with you,” she said in the most conversational tone she could manage. “Think of the potty stops.”

He gaped at her.
Good
. She’d broken his concentration. Now if she could only buy them time . . . “Have you thought about where the two of you will go?”

“I don’t know. Florida.” He reached past her for the door handle.

She flinched. “That’s a really long drive,” she said, pitching her voice low beneath the blasting sirens, using the smooth, soothing tone favored by psych staff and hostage negotiators everywhere. “Is that what you want? I hear that you’re frustrated, but you have to think about what you want.”

“I want you to get the
fuck
out of my
face
.”

“Aidan’s only six,” she persisted. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a—”

He seized her shoulder, his fingers digging in, and threw her out of his way. She flung out her arms to save herself and crashed into a table. She went down hard, the table on top. Her skull cracked against the floor. Her head rang.

After that, things got a little fuzzy.

There were sirens, more sirens, the thud of booted feet, raised male voices, the sounds of a scuffle.
Just like the bank
. But instead of terror, she felt gratitude. She’d done everything she could.
Now Jack could deal with it
.

She lay stunned, sprawled in an ungainly heap on the floor, her shoulder aching and her elbow throbbing and her head splitting with the scream of sirens. Her thoughts hovered and sparked like mosquitoes or fireflies in the dark. And then, blessedly, the alarm cut off.

“Oh, God, Lauren.” Jane’s voice. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve got her. Go with Hank.” Jack’s voice.

Lauren smiled and opened her eyes.

Jack stood looking down at her, face taut and pale, mouth grim, a line of sweat at his temples. His usually neat uniform was rumpled. But when her gaze met his, his lips curved in a faint half smile. “Hello, Lauren.”

Her heart bloomed. Her smile spread. “Hello, Jack.”

He squatted on the floor beside her. She struggled to lift her swimming head, battling the nausea that rose in her throat.

Jack put his hand on her chest. “Easy does it. Do you remember what happened?”

“Before or after I fell into the table?”

His lips twitched. “So, alertness, okay. How’s your breathing?”

“I didn’t have a panic attack.”

“I almost did.” He reached for his utility belt. “Took ten years off my life when I saw you on the floor.”

“Aw.” A bright light flashed briefly in her eyes. She moved her head restlessly. “Hey.”

“Sorry. Pupils okay. How do you feel?”

“Okay.” She tried again to sit up, and this time he helped her with an arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” she protested.

“You need to get checked out.”

She didn’t want to argue. Her thoughts buzzed, a cloud of gnats in an empty jar. She touched her fingers gingerly to her forehead. “Aidan?”

“With Jane. They’re both fine. Hank’s taking a statement.”

“He really was in the truck, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’d hate to get pushed around for nothing.”

His lips brushed her hair. “Nobody pushes you around, sweetheart. Jane said you got to the alarm.”

“Thank you for coming.” She turned her face into his shirt. He smelled like clean cotton and warm male. He smelled like safety. She wanted to crawl inside him and wrap him around her like a blanket. “I knew you’d come.”

*   *   *

“S
OMEBODY NEEDS TO
stay with you tonight,” Jack said on the drive back from the hospital. “For observation.”

Lauren turned her head—carefully, because of the ice pack—to smile at him. “Are you volunteering?”

His jaw set so hard, he thought it would crack. “I’m insisting.”

“Protective custody?” she teased.

“Something like that.”

He couldn’t protect her all the time. He hadn’t protected her today. She’d saved herself and six-year-old Aidan. All he’d done was provide backup. In a week or two he would be too far away for even that much. A phone call, a text, an e-mail, all he could do.

But tonight he could be there for her, could keep watch for any lingering effects of concussion.

Or fear. She’d held it together when she had to, for as long as she had something to do. But trauma was tricky. He wouldn’t be surprised if the confrontation with Tillett triggered nightmares tonight.

It was probably a good thing that by the time Jack found Lauren, Tillett was already in cuffs. Because when he saw her lying bleeding on the floor, he’d wanted to kill the son of a bitch.

They’d shaved a tiny patch of her hair in the ER. Lauren, smiling, wincing, bloody, had joked that the two neat staples in her scalp were nothing compared to her other piercings.

Her guts, her heart, humbled him.

She was amazing.
Hostage Girl
. He could only guess at the courage it took for her to put herself out there again and again, knowing the risks, understanding the consequences. He could only admire her caring.

She put herself on the line like a cop. She was tough like a cop.

Or a cop’s wife.

Don’t go there, dumbshit. She was leaving.

He could never ask her to be less than what she was. Lauren wanted to matter, wanted to help people. He got that, because he did, too.

But she wanted to go back and finish her doctorate.
I don’t want to be mediocre
, she’d said.

He didn’t have anything to offer that would compete with her dreams.

And if he offered her everything and she said yes, he would live always knowing that he’d kept her from the future she’d worked for, from being the person she wanted to be.

Her father’s death had robbed her of one chance at that life. The hostage situation had derailed her plans again. Jack wasn’t going to take anything else from her by telling her he loved her.

Even if it was true.

They crossed the bridge from the mainland, suspended between the deep, sparkling water and the dark dome of the sky. He glanced at her profile, silver in the glow of the dashboard.

He cleared his throat. “I called the Fletchers from the hospital. Meg’s waiting for you. She can tuck you in while I feed the cat and grab a change of clothes. I’ll be back in no time.”

“We’re not going to the boat?”

“I thought you’d rather not rough it tonight.”

“Since when is the boat roughing it?”

He shrugged, remembering Renee’s scorn.
This isn’t home
, she’d said.
This was never meant to be anything more than temporary
. But now didn’t seem like a good time to bring up his ex-wife. “It’s just temporary digs. I thought you might be more comfortable at the inn, that’s all.”

“Temporary? That boat is part of your family history. It’s like you brought a piece of them down with you. That doesn’t feel very temporary to me. You even have a cat, for heaven’s sake. Besides . . .” The curve of her mouth slayed him. “I have very fond memories associated with that boat.”

Yeah, so did he. He was never going to be able to sit on the deck at sunset without imagining her across from him. Never take a shower without hearing her soft, responsive cries echoing off the tile. Never again lie in bed with the moonlight streaming through the skylights without remembering her beside him, the curve of her shoulder, the warmth of her skin. “Sure, we can do that. You need anything from the inn?”

She shook her head. “I just want to go home,” she said in a small voice.

Her words ripped him up. When she was gone . . . He shut that thought down fast.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

*   *   *

J
ACK DUCKED HIS
head as he entered the stateroom. “You need another ice pack?”

Lauren eased back onto his pillows, feeling pampered and more than a little guilty. Maybe they should have spent the night at the inn. At least then Jack wouldn’t be stuck waiting on her. “I’m good, thanks. Sorry I’m so useless.”

“The doc said you should rest.”

“I’ll be able to do more tomorrow,” she promised.

Jack arched an eyebrow. Began to unbutton his shirt. “Seems to me you did plenty today. You stopped Tillett.”

She tore her attention from his chest to say, “I slowed him down. You stopped him.”

“You got us there in time. If he managed to take Aidan out of state, there’s not much Jane could do to get her son back.”

“Wouldn’t that be kidnapping?”

Jack shucked his pants, leaving on navy boxer briefs. He had a beautiful body. “Not in North Carolina. Aidan’s his kid.”

“Was that why Travis was able to pick him up from camp?”

Jack scowled. “No, that was some seventeen-year-old counselor paying more attention to the kid on third base than the real threat in the outfield. I talked to the camp director. That won’t happen again. But, bottom line, Jane never got Tillett to sign a custody agreement. Without that piece of paper, possession is everything. The presumption of the court is equal custody. Tillett didn’t have a gun, so we can’t get him for armed robbery. He’s claiming Jane gave him the money in lieu of child support. The DA will prosecute for common-law robbery, but at this point the only charges I’m sure will stick are resisting arrest and assault.”

He slid into bed beside her.

“So my head bump was good for something,” she joked.

Jack gave her a hard, flat look. His cop look.