Falling Like Snowflakes (12 page)

Their eyes aligned, his burning into hers for a long moment. She couldn't seem to break the hold of his gaze.

“People have reasons for the things they do.” His voice was low and husky.

Afraid he'd see more than she wanted to reveal, Eden wrenched her eyes away. The shadowed landscape passed her window in a dark blur.

She'd have to be more careful with him. His experience as a deputy had no doubt made him suspicious and observant. She'd already given him a false city where her dad lived. It wouldn't take much to check that out. And the sheriff had picked up the remnants of her Mississippi accent.

She supposed the speech therapy Antonio had insisted on hadn't quite done the trick. She couldn't believe she'd gone to such lengths to please her husband. And for what? He hadn't loved her. Hadn't cared about her. He'd only wanted someone to control. Someone to have on his arm at hospital fund-raising events. And she'd blithely gone along. By the time she'd opened her eyes, it had been too late.

“Kate . . .” Beau's deep voice beckoned her from her thoughts.

Desperate to leave them behind, she met his gaze head-on and sensed she'd fallen right into a trap.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Her heart stuttered even as she breathed a laugh. “What—what do you mean?”

She clasped her chilled hands together. They got cold when she lied, and lately they were cold a lot. She looked down at her son. His eyes were closed, his lips relaxed in sleep.

“If you're in some kind of trouble, maybe I can help. I have resources.”

“
No.
” The very notion sent fear rippling through her.

She'd trusted the law to keep them safe once upon a time. She'd been naive and foolish. She'd let her guard down and put her son's life in danger. Never again.

She looked out the window and let the familiar words slip out. “We were just traveling and had some bad luck. That's all.”

He slowed for a stop sign, then continued toward town. Silence hung heavily between them, thickening the air.

“You're not alone here, Kate.”

He meant to reassure her, but alone was exactly what she wanted. Just her and Micah, totally free. The concept seemed like an elusive dream sometimes.

“Your family's been very kind. By Christmas I'll have my car fixed and a little extra socked away. Then Jack and I'll be on our way.”

She felt his eyes on her, felt the burn on the back of her neck. He sighed softly.

She wasn't fooling anybody. She wished he'd press the gas pedal harder so she could escape those knowing eyes.

He said no more as they entered town and crawled through Paige's neighborhood. Micah stirred as they turned into the gravel drive.

She ran her hand through his soft curls. “We're here, kiddo.”

Beau put the truck in park and helped Micah with his seat belt.

Paige's car wasn't in the drive. She was having a girls' night out with her coworkers and had told Eden she'd be late.

She opened the door, and Micah hopped down. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. Hey, while we're here, why don't you grab your W-4 form.”

Eden's heart sank. “Oh. Sure. I'll be right back.”

She told Micah to find his pajamas while she grabbed the form from her nightstand drawer. She quickly filled it out, pausing at the line for her social security number. She closed her eyes, the pen hovering over the space.

Her heart in her throat, she jotted the correct numbers for the first three digits followed by six random numbers. She snapped up the paper and ran it out to Beau.

“Here you go.” She handed it through the open window.

“Thanks. See you in the morning.”

“See you.”

Once the front door was shut behind her, the truck rumbled out of the drive. She gave Micah his bath and settled him in bed. After reading him three books, she tucked him in and kissed him good night.

“Love you, kiddo.”

Once he was tucked in, she took her Debbie Macomber book into the living room and settled in the recliner. She hadn't started the novel yet. It seemed like enough just to have it. She ran her fingers over the cover.

A thump sounded outside, and she jumped. Voices followed, and she realized it was only the family next door returning home. She pulled the afghan around her until she was bundled like a cocoon.

Saturdays always made her extra jumpy, even all these months later. Every week she'd hoped Antonio would forget, but he never did. She remembered the last one like it was yesterday . . .

Her skin crawled as she slipped between the luxurious sheets. Maybe if she went to bed early he'd think she was sick. Heaven knew he wouldn't touch her if he suspected he might come in contact with a cold germ. He even avoided Micah if he had so much as a sniffle.

She flipped out the lamp and lay on her back, her heart thudding so hard the bed shook with it.

It's a small price to pay
, she told herself for the hundredth time. On the surface the words were true, but sometimes it seemed like Antonio wouldn't be happy until he had her soul.

She checked the time. 9:47.

He'd be downstairs right now, sipping his scotch while he finished the business section of the
Miami Herald.
In a few minutes the ice would tinkle loudly against the highball glass as he finished the last drop. Then she'd hear the tap of his shoes on the travertine, and the shower would kick on in the master bath.

She clutched the sheets against her satin pajamas, drew a breath in through her nose, and blew it out slowly over her drying lips. How had she ever thought Antonio was the answer to her problems?

She thought of her dad back in Hattiesburg, her heart aching to see him. Maybe his rules had
been strict, but he loved her. She'd left the smothering nest of her father for the alluring promise of freedom.

Antonio had been wonderful at first. He'd swept into her life with his dreamy-smelling cologne, expensive suits, and attentive green eyes. She'd been caught up in the fairy tale, hardly able to believe someone of his stature would take notice of her. After the wedding he'd gradually become more controlling.

Bu it wasn't until she was pregnant with Micah, until she fought him over the nanny, then questioned the mysterious deposits into their banking account, that he'd begun shutting her out. That had been the end of normality and the beginning of the threats. Threats she knew Antonio had the money and power to carry out. If she wanted any part of her son's life, she was stuck in this nightmare.

“You won't go,”
he said sometimes
. “No one else will want you.”
And other times he played on her fear of losing Micah.
“If you leave, you'll never see him again. I'll make sure of it.”

The walls began to feel as if they were closing in so tightly they pressed against her lungs. He began insisting she wear only muted colors—black, gray, brown—and they had to fit loosely. Skirts had to be to the knee, tops buttoned to her neck.

She began to feel so isolated. Antonio didn't like her old friends from Hattiesburg, and the shame of having to lie about her marriage prevented her from making new ones. She was alone. So very alone. She
hosted formal dinner parties for his colleagues, and heaven help her if anything went wrong.

“Have you even read Proverbs 31?”
he'd rail later.
“This is your job, Eden. I'm not asking much.”
The rant would go on the rest of the night until she felt as small as a speck of dust.

She stilled as the haunting sounds of Antonio's footfalls reached her ears. She held her breath until the water kicked on. It would be a quick shower. He would emerge from the steamy room, reeking of Neroli Portofino soap, a smell that now only turned her stomach.

Her road to freedom had been set with a trap, and the bait that held her hostage was the little boy she loved more than life itself.

Chapter 12

T
he house was quiet with the family gone to church. Only Miss Trudy remained behind, and she was watching her favorite television pastor, her knitting needles clacking away.

Micah was building a Jenga tower on the kitchen table as Eden finished breakfast cleanup. She stifled a yawn as she hung the towel on the peg. A nightmare had woken her at three thirty, and she hadn't been able to go back to sleep. The dark cloud had hovered around her all morning, making her jumpy and irritable.

She'd lain in bed thinking of her dad, missing him. She'd bought a disposable phone on a whim last week. She knew she couldn't call him. Marshals Walter and Brown had drilled that into her the first weeks at the safe house. She couldn't contact anyone. Not her dad, not her old friends. It would only put their lives in danger. Put all of their lives in danger.

The thought of her dad worrying about them made her heart squeeze tight. It wasn't fair. Look what she'd done.

I'm sorry, Daddy.
She rubbed the spot over her aching heart.
I miss you so much.

She missed his sturdy hugs, his rugged laugh, his warbly
voice. What she'd give just to hear it again. Was he okay? Had the stress of her situation caused health problems? What if he'd had another heart attack? What if he'd died? Would the marshals even have let her know?

Anxiety zipped through her veins like electricity, lighting up every worry zone in her body. The phone burned a hole in her pocket.

No, Eden. You can't.

She looked at the kitchen clock. He'd be at church right now, if all was well. He'd always gone, despite his phobia, coming in late and sitting in the back pew.

But what if all isn't well? What if he's ill? Ill and alone because of your stupid mistakes?
Or what if Antonio's “friends” had paid her dad a visit? Had tried to extract their whereabouts after they'd run? Why hadn't she thought of that until now? She'd been so busy trying to keep Micah safe, she'd forgotten about her father.

She glanced at Micah, still mesmerized by his Jenga tower, and slipped out the back door before she could second-guess herself.

He wasn't home, she reassured herself. It was a disposable phone—untraceable. She wouldn't talk to him. Only listen to his voicemail. She needed to hear his voice. She'd hang up before it cut off, and no one would be any the wiser.

She huddled against the cold on the back stoop, her fingers trembling as she pushed in the familiar numbers. Her pulse jumped, racing ahead of her shallow breaths. She lifted the phone to her ear and waited.

It rang once. The thought of those men getting hold of her dad tightened an invisible cord around her neck, sucked the moisture from her mouth.

The phone clicked. Her dad's voice filled her ear. She listened
to the message, her eyes stinging at his familiar inflections. His Southern accent sounded heavier than she remembered, his tone warmer. Her eyes filled, and she blinked back the tears. The message was winding down, and she had to hang up before the beep sounded.

She waited until the very last moment and disconnected. She kept the phone to her ear as if she could hold him there for just a few more seconds.

“I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you. We're safe. Don't worry about us. Be careful.”

Her breath vaporized before her, disappearing as quickly as a wish on the wind.

Eden slid into her coat. She was ready for her afternoon off, eager for some quality time with Micah. And she was desperately in need of a nap—if she could get her son to cooperate.

“Hey, Kate,” Beau said as he exited the kitchen. “Can you help me with something before you leave?”

He looked like he was fresh out of a J.Crew catalog, in his plaid button-down and fitted khakis. The Callahans sure weren't hard on the eyes.

“Um, yeah.” She started to take off her coat.

“Leave it on. I need you outside.”

“You both can't leave,” Miss Trudy said. “Who's going to babysit me?”

Beau put his hand on Eden's son's shoulder. “Jack, you up for the challenge?”

He looked up at Beau and nodded solemnly even while Miss Trudy scowled.

Beau winked at his aunt. “There you go. Problem solved.”

They scuttled out the front door before she could complain.

“That was ornery.” Eden followed him around the house.

“Ornery's my middle name.”

Her shoes made tracks in the few inches of snow. “Where are we going?”

“To the barn. There's something I think Jack might like, but I wanted to check with you first.”

The barn was a short walk from the house. She had yet to step foot inside it. The door opened with a squeak, and a musty smell filled her nostrils. The shadowed, dank building wasn't a place she wanted to spend any time. She sneezed at the dust their feet scuffled up.

Something about the atmosphere dredged up the nightmare from the night before. Was it the smell? The darkened interior? The male body so near to hers?