What Happened to Hannah (24 page)

Hannah shook her head once. “He didn’t. He tormented Ruth’s mind but he didn’t hit her. She was his beautiful
golden child
. . . though I think he might have hurt her in other ways.”

They exchanged a meaningful look but neither of them wanted to discuss it. Not then. “Well, we know that arrangement didn’t last much longer. The cops asked your mother if she wanted to press charges for the bruises healing on her cheeks, and when she said no they left. They told me there was nothing else they could do unless one of them pressed charges and testified against him . . . or without some sort of proof that he’d taken your life, an eyewitness, or your body. But they suspected the worst, too. I could tell by the look in their eyes. To get me off their backs they promised to list you as a runaway teen. That was the best they could do back then.

“I huddled in a blanket on my back porch all night hoping, praying you’d come back. I couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to think about all you’d been through. I just wanted to hold you, make it all go away. I heard the police and the ambulance sirens at dawn . . . and I knew for sure you were dead.”

“Grady.”

Again he shook his head. She didn’t need to say anything.

“All the way over here I made deals with God. Let her be alive and I’ll never drink again. Let her be alive and I’ll never lie again. Let her be alive and I’ll leave her alone so she can finish high school and leave this place like she planned. Just let her be alive.” He looked up from the toe of his boot and gave her a one-dimpled, lopsided smile—the memory of the pain lingering in his eyes. “I guess I should have been grateful that He didn’t smite me dumb for laughing when I heard that your mother had bashed your dad’s head in with a frying pan.”

And there it was again, that perfectly imperfect lie that provided her with the perfect alibi.

“I sat right over there in my truck.” He motioned with his head to the four-acre field and the outbuildings. “I watched them drive your mom and sister off in an ambulance. Derringer’s Funeral Home took your dad away in a plastic bag. The cops left. I waited.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t, didn’t want to believe you were dead, and I knew you wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. I thought maybe you’d hide somewhere until you knew for sure I was home from that overnight camping trip and then you’d come to me. For a little while I thought maybe it was you who . . . lost your temper. I hoped that you were still in the house waiting for the cops to leave; that you’d look out a window and see me there, come down and we’d run away together. That’s the last time I remember actually crying, driving home in the dark that night.”

“Oh, Grady.” She couldn’t help it. She took a step forward and placed the palm of her hand on his chest above his heart. He took his left hand out of his pocket and covered hers, warm and strong. “You have to know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was so scared. I was a mess. I hurt. I didn’t know what else to do. And once I started running I kept going until I couldn’t take another step.” She hung her head. “That doesn’t excuse me from not calling you and letting you know I was okay. I know that. But I didn’t know what things were like here . . . if anyone was looking for me, if I would endanger you, if you even cared anymore. It was years before I felt safe in my own skin again. And by then I’d created this nice, quiet little life for myself. And I, well, I assumed, I guess, that you’d gone on with your life and married someone pretty and smart and funny and could barely remember me.”

“I did. I went on. I had to,” he said, searching her face as his hand left hers on his chest and came to cradle her face, tender and comforting. “But I never forgot. I tried. But I never forgot. And the worst of it was, I knew. In my gut, all that time, I knew you were out there somewhere. With all evidence to the contrary, I knew . . . I just didn’t have any proof.”

It felt familiar and natural to rest her face in the palm of his hand, to close her eyes for a moment and to feel peace. She opened them to a face she’d once trusted more than any other in the world—in truth, the first and only face she’d ever truly trusted. He glanced at her mouth and she knew he was going to kiss her. She held her breath in anticipation remembering their first kiss . . . and their second . . . their third and . . .

Her heart slammed against her ribs in sudden panic.

Pulling his hand from her face she took a step back and shook her head. This man was still the kind, honest, trustworthy boy she’d fallen in love with. She was sure of it. That’s why he’d been voted into his job. Everyone trusted him. They believed in him and relied on him to know and do what was lawful and right. They depended on him to find the bad guys and throw them in jail.

Her crime, her sin—her mother had been so adamant it was a punishable offense, and she’d believed it for so long that when she finally thought to question it, she couldn’t bring herself to risk substantiating it—it was safer as a secret. And by then, of course, she’d kept it hidden so long that she was sure that would weigh as well. She couldn’t risk going to jail. Especially not now.

“Grady. Please. I’m sorry. It never would have worked back then . . . and it’s more complicated now.”

Nothing in his demeanor changed as he asked, “Because of what you’re hiding?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?” Unconsciously she took another, more telling step backward. “I’m not hiding anything. I’ve told you. My life is all about my business . . . and now Anna. There isn’t anything else to tell.”

He nodded, unbelieving. “Try not to forget who you’re talking to, Hannah. I know you. And I know when I’m being lied to. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll give you a little while longer to remember that I’m not the bad guy here and to figure out that no matter how many obstacles you throw up between us, I will have the truth.”

With that he covered her two steps backward with one forward, took her firmly by the upper arms and kissed her smartly on the lips. “That’s for being as stubborn and pigheaded as ever.”

He turned and opened the door to his truck. She was flustered and frustrated . . . and some other things, too.

“Yeah, well, some cop you are, Grady Steadman. Punishing someone with a kiss sends mixed signals, you know. I wouldn’t recommend that you make a practice of it.”

He grinned at her, enjoying that fact that she was upset and sounding like a petulant child.

“Who said I was punishing anyone?” He got in, took his time getting comfortable and buckling up. He closed the door, rolled down the window, and looked her straight in the eye. “And you got the signal straight.”

They scrutinized each other as he pulled off the front lawn onto the gravel and dirt—calculating and challenging each other like a couple of sumo wrestlers circling face-to-face on the mat. She shook her head to tell him there was nothing to win, nothing worth fighting for between them. His smile broadened, then he winked at her and drove away.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he female Steadmans declared May James to be the most qualified candidate to board Anna with for the last two months of school. Along with her husband, she owned a big yellow square-framed house with green shutters and a wide white porch that wrapped around three sides of it just two blocks from the Steadmans. Not only was she a notable member of the Altar Society, but she proctored the study hall in the high school library and knew Anna very well.

Best of all, in Hannah’s opinion, she and her husband were relatively new to the area. Once military retirees looking for a quiet life in Little Town, USA, they’d discovered Clearfield on a holiday drive while stationed in Portsmouth at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard twenty-five years earlier. Another ten years passed before they moved to town permanently, long after the Benson murder/disappearance incident. There was no doubt they’d heard of it, of course—small towns being what they were—but they didn’t unconsciously stare at her as if she’d returned from the dead and they were polite enough not to bring it up.

“And you wouldn’t believe how many people do,” Hannah told Joe on Sunday evening over dinner. She swirled several strands of pasta in marinara sauce around her fork, then waved it over her plate. “ ‘We thought you were dead,’ they say, and some of them actually sound angry that I’m not. Like I pulled a fast one on them and now they’re embarrassed about it. Like it ever made any difference to them if I lived or died in the first place.”

“Maybe they are embarrassed.” He set his fork down and took a sip of his red wine. When she looked up in disbelief he smiled tolerantly. “Maybe they don’t know why. Maybe when they thought you were dead, they were ashamed for doing nothing to help you. And now that they know you’re alive, they still feel the shame plus the humiliation of knowing what you went through to save yourself while they stood by and did nothing.” He made it sound inconsequential. “In any case, how they feel now has nothing to do with you, does it?”

She smiled. “No. And I happen to be head over heels crazy about my niece. Wait till you meet her, Joe. She’s a great kid. She’s smart. She’s pretty. She runs like a gazelle. She’s got everything going for her. So much potential. I can’t wait to get her out of that Podunk town and let her see what the rest of the world has to offer her.”

“And knowing what you do of her fears of being left alone again, you still think it wise to bring her away from this town where she has spent so much of her life?”

She nodded. “I’ve thought about that. Especially after her meltdown last week.” She sighed and pushed at the pasta on her plate, her appetite waning. “I’ll talk to Grady, I guess. I know I can’t live there again, but maybe we can work something out . . . shuffle the girls back and forth more often than I’d hoped, at least until she makes some new friends here . . . and gets to know me better. And trust me.”

“It may take time.”

“I know.”

“It may never happen if life before coming to live with her grandmother was as sketchy as you say, and after it was one loss and then another. A child’s psyche is a tender thing, as you well know.”

She nodded. “I’ve thought about that, too. Maybe after we’re settled in and she’s feeling comfortable I might broach the subject of Dr. Fry or someone like him. She might like somebody to talk to.”

She looked up at her friend to find his savvy dark-brown eyes twinkling under his bushy white eyebrows; the lines in his aged face etched by uncountable smiles almost invisible as he grinned at her. “I think you’ll make this girl a fine mother.”

She shook her head once. “I’m only her aunt.”

“With the instincts of a good mother. Now, don’t argue with me or I’ll be forced to tell you I told you so, once again. Going after the girl was the best thing to do. You know how I hate being right all the time.”

“Yeah right.”

They laughed.

“I don’t know why you left that old man in charge in the first place.” Jim Sauffle was indignant. “He’s damn near as old as God. It takes him forty-five minutes just to cross the parking lot and come in the front door. I was trying to help him out, make his life a little easier while you were gone. All he did was bitch.”

Hannah leaned back in her office chair and took a deep, calming breath. Everything Jim said was absolutely true, and yet her first impulse was to throw her phone at him. Her second impulse: to tell him to pack up his desk and get out before she got out of her chair, crossed the room, and beat him stupid . . . if it were possible for him to be more stupid.

“First off, Jim, that old man’s already forgotten more about the insurance industry than you’ll ever know. In fact, this would have been a fine opportunity for you to work
with
him, pick his brain, and learn a lot. Secondly, I asked Joe Levitz to take over for me while I was gone because I trust him more than anyone else to do as I ask, which is clearly an issue for you as I had to ask you, more than once, to route my clients through to Joe.”

“I was trying to help out. I want. . . .” He looked frustrated.

“What?”

“Well, I want . . . not right away, of course . . . I know I have to earn it and I have a long way to go . . . a lot to learn and all that, but I’m hoping you’ll at least consider me, eventually, for more than an associate position here.”

“What. You want to be my partner?”

“Well, yeah.” He said it like it made perfect sense. “I mean, I know it’s your deal to give raises and bonuses instead of promotions; that you aren’t looking for a partner right now, but I’ve been thinking that with your niece coming to live with you and you, you know, having . . . you know. . . .”

“What, Jim? More to live for now than just this agency?”

“Well yeah.” At last, he looked uncomfortable. “You’re going to want more time off now. You’ll want to go home and cook dinner at night instead of taking evening appointments. You’ll need more time for shopping and helping with homework and . . . and whatever else women with children do. You’re a single parent now, and there’s only so much time in a day. Believe me, my wife can tell you . . . she has a simple job, she puts in her eight hours at a 7-Eleven near our house and then goes home to do her
real
work. There’s no place or time in her life for a serious career. And soon enough you’ll see that, too, and either your young niece or this agency will begin to suffer. My bet’s on this agency.”

Everything Jim said was absolutely true and yet her first impulse was, again, to throw her phone at him. She was beginning to wonder why she’d hired him the first place. Had he always been such a chauvinistic, age-bigoted jerk? Did he sincerely believe his sex alone made him a better candidate for advancement over Gwen and Caroline, both of whom had children and had been with the agency longer . . .
and
knew how to follow instructions?

“Thank you for that, Jim. Having never mothered anything before, I take it as a real vote of confidence from a man with, what, three children and a wife who obviously has two full-time jobs that I would choose my niece over this agency. I hope you’re right and I’ll take everything you said under advisement.” She sat up and put her arms on her desk, laddering her fingers in front of her. “However, I should tell you that I would never take on a partner who couldn’t or wouldn’t follow my simple requests. I’m not going to ask you to leave right now because, frankly, I’m going shopping for my niece’s birthday gift and I don’t have the time to hire someone new to replace you. So, you have the next couple of months to turn yourself around, maybe check in with your wife for some sensitivity advice, learn to respect and get along with Joe Levitz, hustle your ass off to earn your pay and a few nice commissions and we’ll talk again. Okay?”