You Don't Know Me (9 page)

“Listen, Annalise, Blake wasn’t just murdered. He was tortured. Garcia wants to hurt you. Which means he’ll hurt your family. Your children. Your mother-in-law.”

“My . . . You’re trying to get Helen to leave with me. That’s why you asked her to the dance.”

He nodded.

“I’m not leaving, Frank. I have a life here. A
great
life.”

“You can have a great life somewhere else.”

“Really? And what about my children?” She heard her volume and cut it to low. “Colleen starts on the volleyball team. Jason just
landed the role of Romeo. Henry is eleven and has the perfect special ed teacher at school. The last thing he needs right now is to move. And I don’t suppose you’ve noticed, but my husband is
running for mayor
. I can’t take them away from here.”

Frank glanced toward the door, back to her. “You could always leave them behind.”

His words landed like a slap. “Leave . . . leave my
family
?” She swallowed. “Again?”

“Blake didn’t know you were married—which means that Garcia doesn’t know it either. You could leave, and he’d never know where to find your family.”

She could feel herself coming apart, the words shaking through her, deep inside. “Can you guarantee that?”

His mouth turned into a grim line.

“I hate you. I hate what you made me do. I have a life here—a good life. A happy life! You can’t just come in and yank it away, destroy everything I’ve built.”

His hands came down on her shoulders—hot, warm, solid. “Shh.”

She shook them away. “Don’t
shh
me. Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

To her surprise, he nodded. “I do. Which is why I’m giving you a couple days to figure out what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t need a couple days. I’m staying.”

“Then you’ll do it without any protection. You’ll be on your own.”

“Frank—”

“That’s the deal. I’ll give you up to five days to figure out what you want to do with this life you’ve been given. Take it with you, leave it behind, or risk it to Garcia’s vengeance.”

“That’s not fair.” She pressed her hand over her mouth. “It’s not fair!”

“I know.”

She turned away as the door opened behind them.

“There you are, Annalise.” Nathan came out, holding her jacket over his arm. Behind him, Helen also stepped out into the cold.

Nathan looked from Frank to Annalise and back. “Everything okay?”

No. Never. Annalise ground her teeth, managed a nod.

Nathan draped her jacket over her shoulders. “I take it you’ll deliver my mother home?” he asked Frank.

Frank glanced at Annalise one final time, words in his eyes.
Trust me, Deidre.

Then he turned back to Nathan. “I promise to take good care of her,” Frank the liar said.

Blake so easily tiptoed back into Annalise’s dreams, as if he were always lingering on the outskirts, waiting to sidle up to her, wrap his arms around her waist, lean in close, and stir a terrible impulse inside her. “Hey, baby, miss me?”

She didn’t. Or maybe she did. She knew, even as she turned in his embrace and slipped her arms around his neck, that she was dreaming, and something niggled at her, telling her to run away, that it didn’t feel right. But she never could refuse the lure of those dark eyes, of the lazy, almost-daring smile, given only for her. He hooked his fingers through her jean belt loops, like she belonged to him, and drew her against the hard planes of his chest.

Then he was kissing her, and she lost herself in the feelings that sparked inside her, danger and recklessness. And victory. Only she could tame Blake Hayes.

He ran one of his hands through her short black hair, his rings tangling in it. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

She saw herself now, recognized the place in downtown St. Louis. The bluesy joint rocking out mood music behind her. A group of guys looking for trouble beneath the overpass. The smell of cheap beer sifting into the street. Yeah, she knew this place. Had even slept here a few times.

The wind caught her jacket, and she shivered as a car drove by. Blake had his lips against her neck. Where
had
she been? The question rattled around her brain.

And then, as Blake backed up, as she looked into his nearly black eyes again, it came to her.

She’d been safe. At the Seventh Street homeless shelter, serving meals in exchange for a room because her sins wouldn’t allow her to go home. But she’d escaped Blake and his boss, Luis Garcia.

She’d been healing. Gaining weight. Getting clean.

“I gotta go, Blake,” she said as she untangled herself from his arms.

“No, baby, stay with me. I miss you.”

I miss you too.
The words hung in her throat, stayed there, glued. But if Blake found out—

“D’Nell is waiting for me.”

He caught her arm. “Who’s D’Nell?”

Who’s D’Nell?

She saw herself now, out of body, over the city, having shaken free of Blake, the question driving her through the streets. Who was D’Nell?

The Seventh Street shelter looked just as she remembered, a three-story brick building in the center of a fenced lot, with a
wide porch and dark windows like eyes mourning the city. From a block away, police lights banked against the building, turning it bloodred. A crowd lingered around the entrance, around the cruisers, the ambulance.

She slowed her step, tasted her heartbeat.

The EMTs carried the stretcher from the house, parting the crowd.

Deidre pressed her hands to her mouth, caught her scream.

She barely recognized the girl on the stretcher as her best friend. D’Nell’s face was swollen, her body torn—too much blood to know exactly what had happened.

“They found her in the alley,” someone said beside her. “Beaten and stabbed.”

She might have known the voice, but she couldn’t tear herself from the scene as the EMTs stopped, began to do CPR.

They loaded D’Nell into the rig, still pumping.

And that’s when Deidre ran. Her legs grew heavier with each step, and instead of carrying her, they simply churned as the road moved beneath her. She hadn’t made it a block from the shelter, still caught in its shadow and the bloody lights, but she ran with her breath hard.

And then a hand hammered her shoulder.

It jerked her back, slammed her to the pavement, and she sprawled there, gasping.

A form silhouetted above her.

“Blake?”

“You can’t run from me, Deidre.” The voice reverberated as the man dragged her to her feet, grabbing her jacket, pulling her to his face.

Luis Garcia.

She screamed.

It emerged in a whimper but Annalise woke herself anyway, shooting up in bed, shaking, a chill slicking down her spine. She blinked away the darkness, clutching the warm blankets and inhaling the silences, the safety, of her home.

Not St. Louis. Deep Haven. Safe Deep Haven, tucked away so far from the overpasses and the memories that no one could find her.

The furnace kicked on with a low hum. The outside lights shone into her windows, the sound of Nathan’s even breathing calming as he lay with his back to her.

She pressed her hand on his arm. Safe. They were safe.

For now.

But what if Garcia
had
found Blake? Had tracked him down in Fairbanks?

What had she done?

She covered her face with her hands. She never should have lied to Nathan, but now . . . now they all might have to leave.

You could always leave them behind.

No. She shook Frank’s words away. Never. Growing up without a father had etched deep scars into her husband. She wouldn’t make her children grow up without a parent. Besides, how could she live without them? They were her breath. Her life.

God, please don’t take them from me.

The prayer leaked out, a moan more than a thought. But there it was, and it felt raw, too real.

God had given her this life that she didn’t deserve. And it seemed that now, finally, He was going to make her pay for it.

Apparently He hadn’t forgiven her. And why would He? She hadn’t exactly run from her sins. She built a life on them and embraced them every day.

Annalise threw off her covers, the cold bracing against her skin, and reached for her robe, sliding her feet into slippers. She just needed some tea, to think, to figure out what to do.

She heard the sounds of hiccuping breaths as she shuffled out to the family room. Who—?

Colleen sat in her father’s recliner, her knees drawn up to her chest, wrapped in the purple afghan Helen had knit her. Shadows fell upon her face, but Annalise saw the glisten of tears on her cheeks.

“Honey?”

Colleen jumped, startled. “Mom.”

“What are you doing up?”

Colleen lifted a shoulder and turned back to stare out onto their lit porch, where the wind’s fingers scraped leaves across the planking. She looked so broken that Annalise wanted to pull her into her lap, smooth her hair, kiss her forehead.

Instead she sank onto the leather sofa. “What’s the matter?”

Colleen sighed. Lifted a hand to wipe her cheek. “I’m so stupid.”

Annalise held her breath, trying to keep her voice even despite the lurch of her heart. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . I just want him to like me.” Colleen covered her face with her hands.

Shoot, just as she feared, they were talking about Tucker.

Annalise let the clock tick through the silence, tasting dread.
Please . . .

“He’s really not a bad guy, Mom.”

Colleen glanced up at Annalise as if looking for approval. Annalise gave her a smile, not wanting to start a fight. Miraculously, she kept her voice soft. “What happened?”

“Not what you think.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. You are the one calling yourself stupid.”

Colleen blinked, looked away again, and Annalise wanted to wince. First rule of parenting teenagers—don’t panic. But she would do nearly anything to keep Colleen from repeating her mistakes.

From ruining her life with a Blake Hayes.

“I just want to fall in love. Get married, be happy, like you and Dad.”

Yes. Of course. Because Annalise pretended just that well. Or maybe it wasn’t all pretend. She hoped not. “You will, honey. God has a good plan for your life.”

“You really believe that?”

Outside, the wind played the chimes, rattled the windows. “Yes, of course.” Her voice didn’t at all betray the hole inside or the laughter now mocking deep in her heart. She found her confident smile. After all, she’d been using it for years. “I promise, the right guy will walk into your life. You just have to wait for him.”

“I don’t know. What if God doesn’t want for me the same things that I want? What if He doesn’t give me the happy ending I want?”

That was the big question, wasn’t it? Annalise’s eyes burned. Had she ever really trusted God? Or had she simply jumped into this new life and looked behind her, hoping God would catch up, would bless it?

Yeah, look how that turned out.

Colleen seemed not to see her mother bite her lip, swallow hard. “I just keep thinking, what if I make some giant mistake?”

With Tucker? Yeah, that was Annalise’s fear too. Finally they were on the same page.

“What if I lose the only guy who will ever love me?”

Or not.

Do not fall in love with Tucker Newman
!
But Annalise schooled her voice. “I know that God gives us second chances. And that He can fix anything, even use our mistakes for good.”

At least, she used to believe that. Until Thursday at 5:42 p.m. Her words tasted like ash in her mouth.

“Mom, did you ever do something stupid for a boy to get him to like you?”

Annalise’s throat closed. How had Blake materialized right in the middle of their conversation, seated on the arm of Colleen’s chair, smiling at Annalise with that intoxicating grin, his eyes holding so much dare? In that instant, the old feelings churned to the surface and held her in their grip.

She met her daughter’s gaze, longing to tell her the truth. But how could she peel back her past to find the nuggets of wisdom without laying everything bare?

Her lies stole her right to parent her child.

“I’ve made lots of mistakes, Colleen. And . . . and God has blessed me anyway.”

Her words found soft soil. God had blessed her anyway. At least this life had seemed like His blessing.

But why would He bless someone living a life of deceit?

“Would you like some tea?” She stood.

Colleen nodded, her bottom lip trembling.

Annalise did know this much. “I love you, honey. And God loves you, very much. I know you are going to fall in love and live a happy life.”

As long as her mother didn’t destroy it.

Nathan couldn’t pinpoint exactly how the fight had started. Or why it escalated so fast, so loud, especially while standing in line at the Java Cup. Maybe it had been lurking for days and he simply hadn’t seen the signs.

Most of all, he didn’t know why he’d let it end the way it did.

He knew only two things.

He’d need more than calla lilies to fix this one.

And by tomorrow, the entire town would know that Nathan Decker had screwed up, again. There he went, keeping that family legacy alive.

He walked ten paces behind his wife, who seemed determined not to let him catch up as they marched toward home. Her blonde hair twisted in the wind under a knit cap with a cute flower embroidered on the side—his mother’s handiwork. She had her hands shoved into the pockets of her lime-green jacket. This morning, before they left the house, he’d grabbed ahold of her matching knit scarf, brought her close, and kissed her.

“Thanks for going out campaigning with me today.”

She’d smiled, but he couldn’t tell if it was real or not. Darkness hung under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well. Had he heard her get up? He didn’t remember, but he’d tossed the night away himself, catching only snippets of REM sleep.

Nathan couldn’t deny the wound inside him from her lie about Jason’s theater role. He’d tried to let it go as he watched her grab brochures about his campaign and head out into the bright Saturday morning, but as she pushed through the door into the brisk fall air, it irked him that she’d decided not to trust him. She’d simply made a ruling to keep their son’s activities to
herself, decided not to honor his input, and given Jason permission to disobey.

And what was Nathan supposed to do now? Make the kid quit the lead?

Yeah, the wound burned a little, and not just because of her lie. If Nathan hadn’t plunged them so far into debt, Jason wouldn’t have to find a job. He could count on the college fund his father had promised him.

Maybe this was his fault after all. And that truth only dug the ache deeper as they began to canvass their neighborhood.

Nathan had left the closest homes for last, knowing that he’d need to do some extra canvassing as Election Day closed in. But now that Seb had decided to run, Nathan wished he’d stopped by before. Maybe he wouldn’t sound so desperate.