Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (23 page)

“Lyle,” Carl said. “Why don’t you go on home? I’ll take this stuff in and go over it tonight. It seems that I’ll have to find this guy so Mr. West here won’t think I’m covering up for my son.”

“That’s the only way I’ll believe Paul’s innocent,” Jesse said, Carl’s comment grating on him.

When the sheriff and deputy left, Jesse packed up a few things and reached down to take Marti’s hand. “We’re going to Ma’s for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll fix that window, but you’re sleeping with me from now on.”

She nodded instead of giving him the protest he expected. Probably tomorrow he’d hear one, but she wasn’t going to win that argument. If she’d been sleeping next to him tonight, the bastard would be dead.

Once at Helen’s house, she led them up to Jesse’s old room and settled Marti into bed with a cup of chamomile tea. Bumpus curled up at the foot of the bed.

Caty sat next to Marti. “The tea will help you sleep.”

Marti shivered. “I don’t want to sleep. I keep seeing floating eyes.”

Jesse rubbed her shoulder. “Floating eyes?”

“That’s the first thing I thought when I saw him. All I could see were his eyes and, in the dark, they appeared to be floating.”

“You didn’t notice anything about them? Like their shape or color?”

“No, it wasn’t light enough to see color, and the shape … I don’t know.”

She drank the rest of the cup, then snuggled under the blankets.

Helen looked expectantly at Jesse as he moved closer to the door. “And where are you sleeping?”

“Right here. When I get back.”

Both women looked at him with worry in their eyes.

Marti sat up. “Where are you going?”

He tried to keep the hatred from showing in his eyes. “I’ve got some checking to do.”

“Jesse…” Helen warned.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

“I’ll stay here until you get back,” Caty said, giving him a knowing look. “Be careful.”

Helen followed down the stairs. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s trouble.”

“It’s trouble all right, but not for me. For the guy who tried to kill my wife. And my baby.”

“Jesse, don’t—”

“I have to. I can’t let him get away with this. He’s going to keep trying until he succeeds. Again.”

Her look of worry gnawed at him as he drove. The anger gnawed harder, right down to the bone. All his life, Paul had tried to invade Jesse’s life: sports when they were kids, racing and golf, and even Desiree, although that hadn’t succeeded. Now he was trying to destroy his future. Jesse was going to invade his life back.

There were no lights on outside the brick colonial and only Paul’s black truck parked in the drive. Jesse felt the hood: cold. Maybe enough time had elapsed for the engine to cool down, so inconclusive. The doors were locked, and it was too dark inside to see anything out of the ordinary.

He pounded on the front door until a disoriented Paul opened it. He blinked twice, as if he couldn’t believe who he saw. Before he could react, Jesse shoved him inside and slammed a punch to his jaw. Paul went down instantly, almost too easily.

No wonder. The smell of liquor permeated Paul’s skin and breath.

Jesse picked him up and shoved him against the wall. “You son of a bitch, that’s the last time you ever touch her.” He drove a fist into Paul’s stomach. “You got drunk and did it. What’d you do, sit there drinking and thinking that she might remember you were the psycho who tried to rape and kill her by the side of the road? Did it get to you?”

Paul was more cognizant now, standing on his own. “I didn’t do anything to Marti. I had too much happy hour and came home. I don’t even remember lying down on the couch.”

“Where’s your golf glove?”

He gave Jesse a confused look. “My golf glove? It’s at the club with my irons. What does that have to do with anything?”

“What color’s your glove?”

He seemed to search his muddled brain. “Gray and white. I just bought it last week. You can go down and check if you want.”

Jesse leaned back on his heels, daunted only for a second. “What about your old one?”

“Uh, blue I think. Light blue.”

“It’s your glove, isn’t it? You left it in your hurry to get out of there before I got hold of you. But you’re not safe yet, Paul. Not by a long shot. We have some things to discuss…”

Marti woke the next morning, her head still fuzzy from sleep. She sat up suddenly as the room came into view. White walls, dark blue curtains covering two windows facing the rising sun. A queen bed and white ceiling fan overhead. Not her bedroom. Caty sat up and yawned, sprawled out at an angle on the bed next to her. Then everything came back, the horrifying nightmare that was real.

“Where’s Jesse?” she asked, searching everywhere.

Caty searched, too. “Maybe he’s already up. I hope he’s up, that he’s—”

“All right,” both said at the same time, scrambling out of bed.

Marti was already grabbing her clothes. “He’d be in here, if he’d come home. He would have let us know what happened.”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Caty flew out the door.

Helen was on the phone when Marti raced into the living room, kneading her blonde hair with nervous fingers, pacing frantically.

“How much? … Sheriff, that’s ridiculous. I get that, but surely you can understand what he’s been through. … Fine.” She slammed the phone down, startled to see Marti standing there.

“Something happened to Jesse?”

Caty came downstairs, half-dressed, her face pale. “They arrested him, didn’t they?”

“Oh, my God,” Marti muttered, falling back onto the couch. “He killed Paul.”

“No, but he nearly did. Paul’s at the hospital now. If his ribs are broken, it could be a felony. Jesse’s been in jail since four this morning, but Carl didn’t want to wake me up any earlier than now to tell me.” Her mouth tightened into a furious line. “He’s so thoughtful, that one. Jesse is scheduled for his twenty-four hour hearing at ten-thirty. Bond will be set then. Carl’s going to press for seven thousand dollars if it’s a felony.”

“
What?
” Marti stood and curled her hands into fists. “That jerk deserves everything he got, even if he wasn’t the one who broke in last night. Jesse didn’t want you to know so you wouldn’t worry, but Paul and his two fiendish friends jumped him the night we were Christmas tree shopping. They hurt him pretty bad.”

Caty started heading upstairs. “That’s it. I’m calling into work and going down there myself. I’ll show that sheriff—”

“Oh no, you’re not,” Helen said. “You go into work. I don’t need two of my kids in jail, with Billy sure to jump into the fray. Lord knows he’s been in the tank enough times already. Marti and I will head down and straighten this whole thing out. If we need your help, we’ll call.”

“But—”

“Go to work.”

Caty sputtered before stomping back upstairs. Helen sat in silence for a minute, weighing the situation. Marti wanted to join Caty’s army and head to jail to raise some hell, but something in Helen’s quiet deliberation showed more strength. She only wished she had that strength.

Helen brushed her hair from her face. “I’m going to get dressed. Gget some food in your stomach so that babe doesn’t think the whole world is coming to an end. Last night was enough of a scare. Then we’ll go down and see what we’re in for. After that, I can talk to the lawyer I work for and see how we’re going to get out of it.”

Helen calmly went to her room, and Marti walked into the kitchen. She put her hand on her belly.

“I didn’t even think about how all this affected you. It’s not that I don’t care, but I think you’re in this little cocoon all sheltered and snug. We’ll go see Dr. Diehl tomorrow, just to make sure. It’s okay, though. Your daddy’s going to take care of us at night from now on. Well, after he gets out of jail.”

She buttered a piece of bread and forced it down. She thought of those strong arms wrapped around her while she slept, his bare chest pressed against her back. Then she thought about him spending the morning in jail on an old, stained mattress without a pillow. She could have died last night, and the last conversation between them was about Abbie. Why did the thought of his marrying Abbie after Marti was gone drive her mad? How could she explain that she was jealous? He would ask,
What does it matter if you’re leaving?
What else could she tell him but the truth:
I don’t know, but it does, dammit. It does.

“Are you ready?”

Marti jumped at Helen’s voice, then turned to see her standing in the kitchen doorway dressed in a coral suit. Marti felt like a ragamuffin in her jeans and long-sleeved top.

Caty came sliding down the wooden banister. “You have to let me know the second you find out anything. I’ll go nuts wondering.”

“We will.”

Helen and Marti followed Caty down the road until she turned off at Bad Boys Diner. Marti knew Caty was using her utmost self-control to keep from heading to the jail.

“Helen, how do I become like you, so strong and calm?”

Her coral-painted lips softened into a smile. “Practice and determination. Every time you resist doing the wrong thing, you become stronger. It keeps building on itself. When you do the wrong thing, you fall down a notch. Then you pick yourself up and keep striving.”

“What if you’re not good at resisting temptation? What if you have nothing to build on?”

“You have to start somewhere. Something small, like not eating the doughnut when you want it. Then you keep growing, taking on bigger challenges.”

“Oh, how I wish you’d been there to teach me this stuff when I was growing up. All I keep thinking about are the mistakes I’ve made, over and over again. Weakness is like strength, too. It keeps building, small things at first, then larger and larger.”

Helen’s smile became wistful. “I always think about what I have to lose by acting on my impulses. Flab, hurting someone’s feelings, or breaking someone’s heart. I weigh whether the desire is worth the price.”

They pulled into the parking lot next to the sheriff’s office. Marti took a deep breath.

“I wish I could be so confident. I want to scream and kick something. You look completely in control.”

“I want to scream, too. You’re stronger than you think. You’re holding it in just as I am.”

The sheriff’s office smelled piney, as if the cleaning service had recently vacated the premises. While Helen talked to Lyle, Marti walked to the door behind him, hoping to glimpse Jesse. All she could see was a hallway off to the side of the back room and a hint of bars.

“Jesse,” she whispered.

“Sorry, Marti, but you can’t go back there.” Lyle turned back to Helen. “As I was saying, I can’t let you see him until we’re through processing him.”

“Processing him? He’s been here for hours.”

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Well, Sheriff Paton has his ways. If it makes you feel any better, Paul doesn’t have any broken ribs. He’ll be on his way down to sign the papers, but all Jesse will get is battery. A couple hundred bucks’ll do it for bail, probably.” Lyle sat back in his chair, clearly enjoying his official duty.

Helen crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t suppose it matters that Paul and his friends ambushed my son at Christmas.”

“Not if he didn’t report it. Why didn’t he do that, you think?”

“He’s not built that way,” Marti said.

When the women walked outside, Helen said, “Self control is slipping fast. When I can’t see my own son, I start panicking. Something’s not right.”

“What do you mean? Like he’s hurt and they don’t want us to know yet?”

Helen shook her head. “No, I don’t want to think about that. Let’s go down to Bad Boys and let Caty know what’s going on.”

Marti stopped before opening the car door. “Can you do me a favor? Drop me off at the hairdresser’s down the street. I’m going to undo one of my earlier impulses.”

At ten o’clock, Helen and Marti showed up at the sheriff’s office. This time they were prepared to bulldoze any roadblock they had to, even one named Lyle.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to. Carl walked out from the back room as they stepped inside. His expression was grim, his lips pulled into a tight red line.

“We’re filling out the paperwork now. Then you can get him the hell out of here.”

Helen flinched from the tone of his voice. “I don’t understand.”

“There is no bail. If it were up to me, I’d keep Jesse in jail until I finish this investigation. But it isn’t up to me. Paul isn’t pressing charges. The kid wimped out on me again.” He leaned close to Helen, and it surprised Marti to see her back down by looking away. “Maybe if Paul had had a mother, and Jesse a father, we wouldn’t be standing here like this.”

“Carl, stop it,” she ordered under her breath. “I want to see my son.”

Carl gave her a curious look. “
Your
son will be out momentarily.”

He went into the back, leaving Helen and Marti alone up front. Just as Marti was about to ask her about the strange comment, Helen said, “I don’t understand why Paul isn’t pressing charges.”

“Maybe he wants Jesse to lay off his case, so he’s being nice.”

Carl appeared in the doorway, and Jesse walked through behind him. He had a black eye, his brown hair disheveled. A dull look replaced the sparkle that usually lit his eyes. Marti rushed into his arms. Even in his surprise to her reaction, he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

She had dreamed about those arms around her all morning. He had been sitting in a cold jail cell locked away from her. Now he was here, and she squeezed back the tears of relief. Drowning in the feel of him, seeking the strength he freely offered her, the warmth and affection he gave, his arms around her, she realized it was more than relief she was feeling: she was in love with him.

No, she couldn’t drown. She cleared her throat and moved away, hoping he didn’t see the film of moisture on her eyes. “I, er, missed you.”

Helen moved up to hug him. “Let’s get out of this dump,” she whispered, loud enough for Carl to hear it.

“Jesse, you’re looking for clues in clear water,” he said in a stiff voice. “There’s nothing to see.”