Trust Me (37 page)

Oliver wasn't in it.

She checked the master bath, then hurried back to the kitchen, where she picked up the phone and called her inlaws.

"This is Jane," she said as soon as Betty answered.

234

"Hi, Jane. Are you running a little late today?"

"Oliver was planning to come by for Kate. Has he shown up yet?"

"Not yet, dear."

The relief that swept through her made her knees weak. She needed to get out of here, she decided, and she needed to take Kate with her. She didn't know what she'd do or where she'd go, but she knew she couldn't stay, couldn't live in constant fear. There had to be shelters and other hiding places for women like her. She'd go online and find one, so they wouldn't spend the night in the street. Then she'd grab Kate and get as far away from Sacramento as she could.

"Noah's coming over soon," Betty was saying. "Do you want me to ask if he'll drop Kate off on his way home?"

Jane twisted the phone cord nervously around the fingers of one hand.

It pinched, hurting the cuticles she'd shredded, but she scarcely felt the pain.

"No, uh, I'm planning to surprise her with a little outing, a mommy/daughter date. Don't...uh...don't let her go with anyone else, okay? I-I'll be over to get her in thirty minutes."

"No problem," Betty said. "How was work?"

Jane didn't have time to chitchat. "Good, but Kate and I will be late for our movie if I don't hurry, so I'll talk to you in a few minutes." She hoped Noah wouldn't be there when she arrived. She didn't want to face him.

couldn't stand the contempt in his eyes. He thought she was crazy, that she'd finally lost it. But it was Oliver who wasn't right. She was sure of it.

"You bet, dear," Betty said. "See you soon."

Jane tripped on the cord, knocking the phone off the hook in her haste to get back to the bedroom, but she didn't bother to pick it up. She didn't dare waste a second. Dragging a suitcase from under Kate's bed, she threw some of her daughter's clothes in it, pulled it across the hall and piled in some of her own.

Then she paused. What if Oliver tracked her down? Sued her for custody of Kate? That would mean trouble. She had only her suspicion to back her up. She had to be able to convince a court of law. Or she could lose Kate. To him.

Remembering the object Oliver had concealed from her last night while he was having his fun at her expense, she glanced around the room.

Where would he have hidden it?

In the dresser? She pulled out one drawer after the other and dumped the clothes on the floor.

Nothing.

Between the mattresses? She tore the bed apart. Again, nothing.

235

Under the furniture? Getting down on her hands and knees, she put her cheek to the carpet and looked underneath the bed frame, dressers and nightstand.

No.

What was it and where had he put it? She suspected it was a knife. It wasn't until she'd voiced her concerns to Noah that she'd become completely convinced of that, but now she couldn't imagine it was anything else. He'd been reliving his past crimes, using her to fantasize.

Then she remembered the notebook he was always scribbling in. She didn't know if it contained anything that could help her. He was fiercely possessive of it and wouldn't let her read it. She hadn't even tried since he'd been home. It was all in some kind of code, anyway. But she was fairly sure she knew where he kept it.

Reaching a hand between the wall and the headboard, she brought out that notebook and began glancing through the pages. It was mostly in code, all right, one he'd made up on his own, if she had her guess. But there was also a picture of Skye he'd cut out of the paper.

Shoving it in her purse, which she wore across her body to keep her hands free, she charged into the bathroom. She had to find that knife. Then she'd know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Oliver was everything Detective Willis said, and she could show that knife to Noah and the rest of the family, if need be.

After scooping out the hairspray, cosmetics and nail polish from the cabinet under the sink, she took off her purse and rolled onto her back to peer up at the plumbing. Had Oliver taped his weapon up there, where he'd assume she'd never look? No. Again she came up empty-handed, as she did when she checked the underside of the toilet-bowl lid.

Damn it! Putting her purse back on, she glanced nervously at her watch. She'd have to give up. He'd probably taken it with him. And she couldn't risk staying in the house much longer. Oliver could come home any second. She knew he didn't love her, but she also knew he wouldn't want to lose her, or Kate. Having a wife and child ensured that his family remained sympathetic to him and helped him keep up appearances while he plotted and planned with his stupid notebooks and coded words. She was also his meal ticket right now.

Heart racing, she took a final look around. The mess alone would drive Oliver crazy, she thought with satisfaction, and headed out of the bathroom to get the suitcase. As terrifying as her actions were, she felt strangely empowered, free. She was leaving him. She would never have to suffer his touch again. There had to be something better for her out there....

236

She was dragging the heavy suitcase down the hall when a new thought occurred to her. Although Oliver had always kept the receipts for everything he purchased and entered it in QuickBooks, he wouldn't be stupid enough to save a receipt that showed he'd bought a knife. She was pretty sure he wasn't allowed to own anything other than simple kitchen knives without violating his parole. So, if she could

prove he possessed something on the list of forbidden objects, they'd send him back to prison, wouldn't they? Then she'd be able to keep the house and her job until she could come up with a better solution.

Chances were good that he'd disposed of the receipt immediately, before he even drove home. And if he hadn't, he'd probably thrown it in the trash.

Dropping the heavy suitcase in the middle of the living room floor, she adjusted her purse so it wouldn't get in the way as she rummaged through the inside garbage. When she didn't find what she was looking for, she went out the side door and lifted the lid of the county's refuse can.

A car pulled into the drive before she could dig very far.

Heart pounding, Jane peered through the cracks of the fence. Just as she'd feared, it was Oliver.

David grimaced when caller ID on his cell phone indicated his ex-wife was trying to get hold of him. Her timing, if she wanted to ruin his evening, was almost perfect. He'd just pulled into Skye's driveway and was reaching for the wine he'd bought.

With a frown, he turned the ringer to vibrate and shoved the phone in his pocket. He refused to let her make him feel guilty right now. But when she called back two more times before he could even get out of the damn car, he decided he'd better answer. God forbid, but it was possible that there was some problem with Jeremy.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to quell his impatience.

"Hey!" Her voice sounded thick, strange.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm out having a good time."

He could hear music in the background, but it was distant, as if she was standing outside a building. "Where's Jeremy?"

"At my mother's."

That was odd, too. Lynnette's mother rarely agreed to babysit. She occasionally dropped by on a Sunday afternoon to take Jeremy out for ice cream, but she'd been single for the past ten years, ever since Lynnette's father had left her for a much younger woman, and liked to go ballroom dancing on the weekends. She and Lynnette had never really gotten along.

237

"How'd you convince her to do that?"

"I told her you were fucking someone else, just like Dad did, and she felt sorry for me."

David bit back the anger that rose at her words. There were more differences than similarities between him and her father. David had never slept with another woman while they were married. And he hadn't left her for someone else.

But it wasn't worth arguing about. Not when she was obviously intoxicated. "Is there a reason for this call?"

"Your car wasn't in the lot at your apartment building."

"I hope to God you're not driving tonight."

"Why would you care?"

"You could kill someone."

She laughed bitterly. "So it's not me you're worried about."

He glanced toward the house, anxious to get off the phone. "I don't want anything to happen to you, either. You know that."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Out."

"With her?"

David took a deep breath. "Lynnette, have fun tonight, but make sure you have someone drive you home."

"I'm not going to my place. I'm going to find someone to go home with."

"Whatever." He honestly didn't care, but that seemed to be the very thing that pushed her over the edge.

"What'd you say?"

"Do what makes you happy."

"You son of a bitch!"

"Lynnette--"

"I hope Burke does kill her!" she said vehemently and the phone went dead.

David looked tired and upset when he came to the door. Skye had no way of knowing what had happened since they'd seen each other at lunch, but she could tell that his afternoon hadn't been good.

"You okay?" she murmured as she stepped back to admit him.

"I've been better." He handed her a bottle of wine, but she didn't take it to the kitchen. She held it, watching him. "What's going on?"

With a sigh, he scraped a hand over his whisker-roughened jaw.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled. "I'm not going to let it ruin dinner."

For her. Because whatever was troubling him had already ruined his.

238

And it had to be personal. If it was work-related, he would've told her what was bothering him, even if he didn't want to get specific: Another case came in.... I'm at a dead end with Bishop.... I'm afraid I'll never be able to prove Oliver was behind those murders.... Something.

Skye set the wine on the shelf of the hall tree, but she didn't take her eyes off him. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, David," she said softly.

"It's not that," he told her.

And yet he obviously felt torn. "Is it Lynnette?"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "Come on, something smells good in here."

She refused to let him tug her into the kitchen. "Quit shutting me out."

"I'm not shutting you out. I'm trying not to burden you with my problems, okay? I can't imagine you want to hear me complain about my ex-wife. Isn't that some kind of standing joke about dating a divorced guy?"

She pulled out of his grasp. "It's not as if I want to dwell on your past relationships, but there's got to be some sort of happy medium. She's part of your life, David, and because of Jeremy she always will be. If we're going to.. .to be seeing each other, even casually, she'll be part of my life, too, right?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before dropping his hand. "Is that what you think? That this is casual?"

"I don't know what it is yet, do you?" She was carrying his baby, but she doubted he'd welcome that news. And she knew the existence of a baby didn't necessarily change anything between them. There were too many other problems to deal with first.

"I sure as hell know it isn't casual," he said. "I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing just to get in your pants!"

"But don't you understand? That's what you're making this when you won't let me shoulder some of your emotional load. What, you'd rather set me off to the side somewhere and come by only when you'd like to get laid?

How deep is that?"

"I'm trying to save the evening. What the hell do you want from me?"

"More than a fun date, that's for sure! You think I can't take the bad with the good? That I'll run at the first hint of the problems you're trying to shelter me from?"

Glaring at her, he muttered a curse. "Fine," he said. "Lynnette's out partying tonight, okay? I wouldn't care about that, except she seems to be unraveling. And if she can't hold herself together, where will that leave my son?"

239

Lynnette wasn't going to let David go easily. Skye knew that from the conversation they'd had on the phone. "Where is he now?"

"With his grandma."

"Is that a good place?"

"Physically, he's safe. But Lynnette's mother wears her emotional scars like some badge of honor and is always spouting off her theory that men aren't capable of loving anyone, that their emotions are all self-serving and superficial. I don't like what she says to my son, how she makes him feel about the fact that he'll grow up and become something she can't admire.

And I can guess what she's saying about me." Now that Skye had him talking, it all came out in an angry torrent. "Maybe I could put up with it and simply try to talk him out of the pseudo-feminist bullshit she fills his head with if she liked little boys any better than men, but she doesn't. She prefers her other grandchild--a girl, of course. She dotes on Amberly. But Jeremy's a different story."

Pivoting, Skye left him standing in the entry so she could turn off the oven, where she was cooking her mother's special rosemary-and-herb chicken and potatoes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nearly bumping into her when she emerged from the kitchen.

She grabbed the wool coat hanging on the hall tree. "Getting ready to leave."

"What for?"

"Because we're going to pick him up."

"What about dinner?" he asked.

"It can wait till we get back." She turned to face him, knowing this was the moment of truth. "Unless you have some objection to including your son in our evening together."

Skye held her breath as she waited for David to respond. If he wouldn't allow her to associate with his son, their relationship was doomed from the start. How could they ever get close, and stay that way, if he refused to share the things that were most important to him?

"Well?" she said earnestly when he didn't immediately give her an answer.

Cupping her face, he stared down at her for several seconds, his gaze turbulent, intense. Then he kissed her more tenderly than she'd ever been kissed. "Let's go."