Don't Tell (44 page)

Max found he had integrity of his own. Married women were off limits. Strictly so.

The overhead light flicked on and the familiar scent his mother had worn since he was a boy tickled his nose. The leather on the sofa squeaked as she sat. He didn’t move from where he stood, even when Elizabeth gripped his upper arm and pulled herself tall enough to place a kiss on his unshaven cheek. From the rustling behind him, the party had moved into the living room. Finally he turned and found them sitting in a row, five pairs of eyes fixed on his face.

„We have a right to know what happened,“ Cathy began without preamble.

„And don’t even consider saying no,“ Peter warned.

Elizabeth shrugged her slender shoulders. „It would be impolite, Maxie.“

„We need to support you, Max,“ Peter added quietly. „This time we need to be behind you,“

Max looked over at David who just nodded.

„You can trust us, Max,“ his mother said softly. „We love you. We always have.“

Max drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. „If it were my secret, I’d tell you without hesitation. Because it’s Caroline’s I have to ask each of you to give me your word that nothing I tell you will leave this room.“ Each nodded, expressions serious. „Well, then. If David will get me a chair from the kitchen, I have a story to tell.“ He managed a slight smile. „Please be thinking of ways I can make it right with Caroline and get the two of us out of this mess.“

Chapter Twenty-one

Chicago

Sunday, March 18

6:30 P.M.

„Next time, Tom,“ Barry promised as his father’s van pulled up in front of Tom’s apartment.

Tom threw a punch to his best friend’s shoulder, determined not to let his disappointment at their premature return show. „Sure. Do you think your dad will be okay?“

Barry winced as he looked at his father sitting in the front passenger seat, his face ashen. „Sure. Mom will take care of him and he’ll be as good as new by“ – he winced again – „maybe next week. I’m glad we didn’t eat those hot dogs.“

Tom nodded. „Yeah, and I’m glad your mom managed to find our campsite. Next time we bring flares and an emergency radio.“

Barry grinned. „Next time we check the ex-date on the hot dogs,“ he whispered.

„I heard that,“ his father moaned from the front seat.

„I thought those things were good forever, Mr. Grant,“ Tom said sympathetically. „I hope you feel better soon.“ He slid open the van’s side door. „Thanks for coming to get us, Mrs. Grant.“

Tom shouldered his duffelbag and with a backward wave took the landing steps in a single leap. „Hi, Mr. A – “ He stopped and frowned. Saying hello to Sy Adelman was automatic as breathing. It was the first time he could remember the old man being absent from his place on the bottom step. He’d check on him when he’d dumped his stuff, he decided. Old people sometimes fell and couldn’t get up, although Mr. Adelman never seemed like a typical old man.

Tom frowned when his key failed to unlock the deadbolt. It was already unlocked. He’d have to have a talk with his mom. Her brain wasn’t firing with all cylinders since Max Hunter had come into their lives. By forgetting to deadbolt the door she was just asking the neighborhood gang punks to rip them off.

His apartment was quiet, eerily so. Mom must be out with Max, he thought, still not certain he trusted the man. But his mom said she loved him and that would have to be good enough for now. At least he could be fairly certain his mom would be safe with Max Hunter. Even when the man got angry, he didn’t raise his fists. Mom said so and Dana believed it, too. Dana’s opinion meant a lot. Letting his duffel slide to the floor, he made his way to the kitchen. Four hours in the car with a retching Mr. Grant had kept both his and Barry’s appetites pretty KO’d. He demolished two chicken legs while still standing at the counter before reaching for the cookie jar.

Tom frowned at the flash of silver and jingle of keys when he moved the jar. His mom’s keys. She’d never leave the house without her keys. The short hairs on the back of his neck rose and he looked around warily, as if the bogeyman was right behind him. Quietly he retrieved his baseball bat from the hall closet and crept up the hall.

Bathroom… He glanced inside before pushing the shower curtain aside. Empty.

His mom’s bedroom… He peeked inside. Empty. He’d taken a step back when he saw the fragments of his mother’s St. Joseph on the floor. Years rolled back, vaporizing into so much mist.

„Oh, God,“ he whispered, his heart thundering in his chest. „No, God, please.“ Making his feet move, he picked up one of the pieces lying on the bed. „Mom?“ he called, cautiously. „Mom, are you here?“ He stepped to the side of her closet door before flinging it open. It was empty. He was scarcely aware of the breath he let out.

The last room was his bedroom. His blood pounded in his ears. The palms of his hands were slick. He wiped one, then the other on the seat of his jeans, then tightened his grip on the bat. Gingerly he opened the door and stopped short. His bed was made, the spread so tight he could bounce a quarter on it. He never made his bed. Never. Not since the day they’d run because he’d made such a big deal of it. It was just one way Tom had thumbed it at him. Seeing his bed made with such military precision took him back to a little house far away and his heart pounded harder in his ears. Feeling a sick rolling in his stomach, Tom slowly looked around his room. The old trophies on top of his chest of drawers caught his eye. He took a single step forward as the hand that gripped the bat fell limply to his side. The trophies had been arranged. By date. They’d been cleaned and polished. They caught the light and shone like silver.

„Oh, God.“ He heard himself whimper and closed his eyes, wishing it was all a nightmare. Wishing his room would be back to its normal messy state when he opened his eyes.

It wasn’t.

He’d been here. Here in the place that his mother had been so sure was safe.

Mom.

„I shouldn’t have left her,“ he whispered, running to the dinette table. He stopped abruptly. The lid of a mayonnaise jar sat on the little table under the window. His mother used the table to sun her potted petunias. The petunias lay in a pile on the floor, the clay pot in pieces. He didn’t need to look inside the jar lid to know what he’d find there.

He heard his gulp echo in the quiet of the apartment.

The lid was filled with cigarette butts.

And the carpet next to the petunias was covered in blood.

Chicago

Sunday, March 18

7 p.m.

The silence was absolute as his family worked to absorb the truths Max still hadn’t completely accepted himself. Cathy sat with her head back against the sofa, her eyes closed, her throat working ferociously. Elizabeth openly wept, unashamed. David sat on the end of the sofa, his chin resting on the knee he’d pulled close to his chest, his gaze silently proclaiming his unwavering support.

Ma was the first to speak. „Oh, Max,“ she whispered, her voice choked with tears. „That poor girl. How terrified she must have been.“

Peter cleared his throat. „We’ll get a lawyer. I know one we can trust.“

That pronouncement started the comments flying and Max swallowed, feeling his own eyes sting. The unconditional support of his family was an unexpected treasure in the midst of this living hell. Regret for the years he’d wasted clutched at his heart, certainly not for the first time.

He held up a hand and the voices stilled. „Caroline-needs to agree to this.“

„Well, call her, Max,“ his mother commanded.

„She’s not answering his phone calls, Ma,“ David said quietly.

Their mother stood, her hands on her hips. „Then what are you doing here?“ she demanded. „Get in your fancy German car and go get her and bring her back here.“

Max felt a smile tug at his lips. „Why didn’t I think of that?“

Phoebe Hunter rolled her eyes. „And I don’t even have a single initial after my name. You tell her to pack her bag and get back here, son. Tell her she’s welcome in my family.“ She stepped forward to the chair in which he sat and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. „Tell her she’s welcome to my boy,“ she added, her voice a husky whisper. The caress, so gentle, broke down the last barrier of resistance and he turned his cheek into her palm, needing the comfort only a mother could provide. Not caring that his whole family saw the tears rolling down his face.

„He hurt her, Ma,“ he whispered, his voice tortured. „She has scars…“ He shuddered and surrendered to the gentle pressure of his mother’s hands as she pulled him close to her breast. „God, Ma. I’m so ashamed.“

„Why, Max?“ she murmured against the top of his head.

„I accused her of not wanting to marry me because of my scars. Then she showed me hers.“

She stroked his head. „It’s called a reality check, Max. I’d say it’s about time.“

Unbelievably, a chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. „No quarter, Ma?“

She tilted his face up and wiped the moisture from his cheeks with the cuff of her blouse and Max wondered how many times she’d done that same thing over the years of his life. „Do you want one, son?“

Max shook his head. „No.“ He closed his eyes against the wave of emotion that threatened his composure once more. „No quarter, Ma.“

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead again and he remembered nights when she smoothed his hair the same way before tucking him into bed. Suddenly calm inside, he waited, knowing what was coming next.

„I love you, Max,“ she declared without compunction.

„I love you, too, Ma.“

She tugged him to his feet and put his cane in his hand. „Go get her, Max. Bring her home.“

Peter brought him his coat and David stood at the door, tossing his keys back and forth.

„I’m going with you,“ David declared. „Maybe that friend of hers will be there.“ He grinned at Max’s raised brows. „I didn’t see a ring on her hand and you can’t have them both.“ David winked at Peter. „She had legs up to her chin.“

Peter laughed and opened the door just as the phone began to ring. „Just go. I’ll take care of the phone.“

They’d gotten to the driveway when Peter appeared on the front porch, the cordless phone in one hand, waving frantically, a frown on his face. „Max, wait! I think you need to take this call. It’s from Caroline’s son. He’s pretty upset.“

Chicago

Sunday, March 18

8 p.m.

Max closed his eyes, his mind numb.

„It’s not your fault, Max,“ David said, keeping his eyes on the road, his foot putting the acceleration of the Mercedes to the test. „This is not your fault.“

„I shouldn’t have let her go like that. I should have made sure she got home safely.“

„That’s absurd. Caroline doesn’t need you to be torturing yourself now. She needs you to keep your wits about you so you can take care of Tom.“

Tom. Max swallowed back his own terror as empathy for Caroline’s son filled him. God, what the boy had been through in the last hour. „How soon before we’re there?“ They were racing for the precinct to meet with Lieutenant Spinnelli.

„Twenty minutes. What exactly did the police say? This Spinnelli. What did he say?“

Max rubbed his hands over his face. „He said they’d tracked Winters to Chicago. He’s been looking for Caroline for two weeks now. They’ve been working with the police in Asheville.“

„North Carolina?“

„Yeah. It’s where Caroline grew up. Lieutenant Spinnelli said they’d send someone to get Tom and bring him to the police station.“

„What about the girl?“

„Evie? The hospital said she was still in critical condition. They were trying to find Dana to tell her to call me.“

David’s jaw tightened. „Coincidence?“

„Spinnelli didn’t think so. He didn’t say why; just that he’d meet me at the police station.“

As if on cue, his cell phone jingled. A moment of fear paralyzed him as he imagined the police calling him to give him bad news about Caroline. He made himself punch the talk button. „Hello?“

„Max? It’s Dana. I’m sorry I didn’t call you before about Evie. I wasn’t thinking.“

He cleared his throat. „How is she?“

Dana sighed. „Still unconscious, but holding on. I can’t believe this, Max. I can’t believe someone broke into my apartment and did this to her.“

„Dana, I need to tell you something.“

There was a beat of silence. „What?“

Max drew a breath. „Caroline’s missing. The police say her husband found out she was in Chicago somehow. He’s…“ His voice broke. „He’s got her, Dana.“

„Oh, God, no. Oh, God, Max.“

Max pressed his knuckles to his lips as David squeezed his arm from across the car. „Tom found blood in their apartment.“

„No.“ Dana’s sobs came through the phone and twisted Max’s heart still more.

„Dana, they… The police… They think Caroline’s husband may have hurt Evie, too.“

„No, Max. No.“

„Yes, Dana.“

„But… Oh, God, Max.“ Dana’s voice was becoming hysterical. „Whoever did this to Evie raped her.“

Max’s stomach clenched. „Are they sure?“

„She might die, Max,“ Dana whispered. „She’s bleeding internally. He was… brutal.“

They held the phone in silence for a few moments, linked by a shared terror. That monster had Caroline. He was capable of… anything. Max’s imagination whipped up pictures that made his stomach heave and his brow break out in a cold sweat. He pushed them aside, all the twisted, convoluted conjurings of his imagination. He didn’t have time to think about Caroline that way now. He needed his mind sharp and clear. To plan. To find a way to get her back. „Dana, can you talk to the police? They’re trying to get all the information they can on him.“ The images intruded, crystal clear and gut ripping. „We – “ He choked on the word. „We’ve got to find her.“

„Tell them to come to the ICU waiting room,“ Dana said hoarsely. „I’ll be there.“

Chicago

Sunday, March 18

8:30 P.M.

Max and David were escorted to a small conference room where a detective in a rumpled brown suit sat in the corner and Tom paced the perimeter. As they entered, Tom stopped pacing and looked up. Max’s throat constricted at the look of devastation in me boy’s eyes, the image of Caroline’s. He hesitated a moment then closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders.