Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

S eth didn’t want to go into his house where he might encounter one of his roommates since both of their vehicles were parked outside. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed down the sidewalk. Jetta’s words had been like the cliché dagger to the heart, piercing him with an almost physical pain. Other voices joined Jetta’s in his mind, calling him names or making fun of his large size. A tear trailed down his cheek, and he let the light wind dry it rather than wipe it away.

He’d known she had a world of hurt behind her pregnancy. His childhood in and out of foster homes had developed his ability to spot the pain behind the masks people wore. But since their kiss, he had let himself begin to hope this time that the relationship would develop into a forever one, rather than the temporary unions he’d become accustomed to. He pulled out his phone and sent his therapist’s assistant a text to see about any openings. He hadn’t spoken to Dr. Finnegan in almost a year, but his confidence had taken a direct hit with Jetta’s harsh opinion of him.

As his stride put more distance between him and Jetta, he couldn’t help but consider the situation from her perspective, something he’d always defaulted to. Dr. Finnegan had helped him see that while empathy and the ability to consider the other person’s point of view were admirable traits, they could also push Seth into dangerous territory by not holding others accountable for their actions or offering excuses for their behavior.

He attempted to look at the current situation with a clear eye. It was true they hadn’t known each other long, so on the one hand, her concern was warranted. However, Seth had developed a years-long relationship with her mother, so that should have given Jetta some reassurance as to his intentions.

Seth turned a corner, passing a group of kids chasing each other, their happy squeals and mock screams tugging at his heart. He had let himself dream of raising Jetta’s child as his own, and, maybe one day, adding a couple of more kids to the mix. For all her bravery on the outside, Jetta had been deeply hurt by someone who had gotten her pregnant, then abandoned her. The urge to pray for her made him pause, close his eyes, and pour out his heart to the one who understood all his pain and Jetta’s. After his silent amen, he continued, thanking God for Dr. Finnegan’s wise counsel in helping him wrestle through his childhood hurts and his teenage angst.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking and giving his feelings for Jetta and the situation to God when a familiar bark brought him up short. Jetta and Bingley stood a few feet in front of him on the sidewalk.

Bingley, straining at the leash held tightly in Jetta’s hand, wagged his tail in welcome, but Seth couldn’t distinguish Jetta’s features in the twilight.

“I’m sorry.” Jetta’s voice sounded rough, as if she’d been crying a lot. “I’m sorry for saying I thought you might be abusive.”

Seth sensed she had more to say, so he came closer to let Bingley lick his hand.

“I said some terrible things about you. I…” Her voice cracked. She breathed in and out slowly before continuing. “I have no excuse for my actions other than I’m scared. Scared for my mom. Terrified about what I’m going to do once the baby comes. Worried I’ll make another mistake and mess up her life.”

“Jetta.” The pain in her tone made him want to draw her into his arms.

She held up her hand. “Please, let me finish. You’ve been the perfect gentleman in all of our interactions. You’ve never asked about the baby’s father, but you deserve to know why I’m such an emotional mess.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” But oh, how he hoped she would.

“Yes, I do.” She held out the leash to him. “I think I can get the words out better if we walk and talk. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” He accepted the leash, tugging Bingley to get him moving again. Jetta fell into step beside him, her arm brushing against his. Every fiber of his being wanted to take her hand in his but he would keep his distance so she could tell her story. While she had apologized, it didn’t mean she was ready to welcome him into her life.

They walked nearly an entire block before she spoke. “He never hit me.” Her quiet words eased some of the worry Seth hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. “But he tried to control me in other ways.”

When she let the silence build, he filled in the blanks of a story he’d seen play out more often than he liked to remember with some of his mother’s men. “By belittling you and isolating you from your friends and family.”

Surprise widened her eyes. “How did you know that?”

He drew Bingley to a halt to face Jetta. “My therapist helped me see that’s what some of my mom’s men did, even when I couldn’t articulate why their behavior bothered me so much.”

Jetta appeared to mull that over, then she continued walking. “I met Kyle at the mega church I was attending in Chicago. While the pastor did preach the Gospel, what attracted me was the way I was able to slip in and out without many people noticing me. It was easy to think I was doing the right thing without the accountability. In hindsight, that’s why Kyle liked the church too.”

No wonder Jetta had thought Kyle was a safe bet, meeting him in a house of worship.

“At first, I was flattered by his attention. He was older, in his late-thirties, and seemed so sophisticated. Unlike men my age, he had more money, and he liked to spend it on theater tickets, high-end restaurants, and box seats at sport events. Dating him was like nothing I had ever experienced, and for a while, he treated me like a queen.”

Seth braced himself as she shared more details as Kyle niceness wore off, telling himself she had gotten away from the man who had hurt her so deeply in Chicago.

“He was so good at making me believe his demands were reasonable that I didn’t realize what was happening until one of my sisters visited me.”

Jetta paused the story as if lost in the past. He prompted her with a question. “Which sister?”

“Jenna, the oldest one. Kyle was supposed to go to dinner with us, but he backed out at the last minute because a friend had gotten courtside seats at a Chicago Bulls game. I wasn’t about to ditch Jenna and accompany Kyle, who blew up for disobeying his command.” She huffed a laugh. “He didn’t use those words. That’s how I saw it later, when the scales had fallen from my eyes.”

“So no one from your family ever met Kyle?” Seth tugged Bingley away from a flower bed as the streetlights came on to illuminate the dusk.

“No. Jenna asked the right questions about his over-reaction to a change in plans, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I still thought he hung the moon, as my grandmother used to say.”

Bingley barked at a neighbor walking a black lab, and Seth tightened his grip on the leash. They passed a neat brick house with a freshly mowed lawn and few ghosts hanging from the small tree in the front yard.

“I don’t get why people decorate for Halloween.” Jetta pointed to the extremely tall skeleton on the lawn. “It’s not even October.”

“I guess because pumpkin spice comes out in early August, people think it’s time to break out the Halloween decorations in late September.”

“Maybe.” She swiped across her face with the back of her hand. “I’m so tired of these blasted tears. Every time I turn around, I’m bawling like a baby.” She pointed a finger at him. “And don’t you dare say that’s because I’m having one.”

His lips twitched, but Seth managed to turn his head so she wouldn’t see his almost-smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I found out Kyle’s true colors around Halloween last year, two months after Jenna’s visit. It was such an ordinary day. We were supposed to go to a Halloween party, one of those adult dress-up affairs. He’d bought costumes for us but hadn’t shown me the outfits, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.” She snorted. “He certainly succeeded. He came dressed as a pirate complete with swashbuckling sword and eyepatch. My outfit was much skimpier. The skirt, if you could call it that, would have barely covered my rear. The top consisted of a laced corset type thing, a bustier I think they’re called. I took one look at the scraps of fabric and said no. Kyle was furious. He exploded in a rage, calling me all sorts of nasty words and threatening to leave me if I didn’t go get dressed in the wench’s costume.”

Seth was glad Kyle was in Chicago because the urge to plant one in his face grew with each snippet of Jetta’s tale. He never understood the sheer selfishness of some men in the way they expected their women to behave.

“So I called his bluff and said fine, leave me. I wasn’t wearing the outfit.”

They had rounded the block with their houses in sight. Seth said a prayer of thanks for her courage in extracting herself from such a volatile relationship. Although if she broke up with Kyle last October 31, then the baby must not be his because the math didn’t add up. Babies didn’t take eleven months to be born.

“He stormed out and didn’t call me for two weeks, during which time I had a good, long think about our relationship.”

“What did you conclude?”

“You mean besides the fact that I was better off without him?”

“Yep.”

“That I had been a fool, but at least God had opened my eyes at last.” She halted at the walkway leading to her front door and laid a hand on his forearm. “Seth, I’m so sorry for those terrible words I said about you. You’ve been nothing but kind and generous and caring toward me and my mom, and I let my fear about my mom and uncertainty about my own future cloud my judgment. I hope you can forgive me and that we can be friends.”

His heart, which had begun to beat faster at her light touch and her complimentary words, slowed as she friend-zoned him. “Of course I forgive you.” I’m in love with you. I’d forgive you anything. He swallowed the words he wanted to say, knowing it wasn’t the right time. It might never be the right time, not if she continued to vacillate between flirting and friending.

She squeezed his arm. “Thank you. I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“I think you do, but that’s a conversation for another day.” He handed over Bingley’s leash. “You look about to drop on your feet.”

She stifled a yawn behind her hand. “The day’s caught up with all of a sudden.”

“I’ll keep praying for you and your mom. Sleep tight, Jetta.”

With a wave, she trudged up to her door. He watched from the sidewalk until she and the dog disappeared inside, then went to find something to eat. He hoped his roommates hadn’t eaten the leftover chicken, or it would be cereal for dinner. If only his love life could be so easy to solve as feeding his stomach.

* * *

Mae huffed as she searched the shelves in the supply closet for binder clips. The office manager assured her the company had recently ordered more, but Mae had yet to find them. Ryan preferred the clips to staples on his reports, so she regularly ran through her desk supply. She made a mental note to assign the office manager with the task of organizing the spacious closet on the upcoming office cleanup day. Mae would attach Ryan’s name to the order so the woman wouldn’t dare not comply. Samantha Layne would know it was Mae’s revenge for the binder search, but she would still have to re-organize the supplies.

Mae moved to the far corner of the room where a stack of boxes had been opened but not put away. She grabbed a single step stool to use to peer into the box, which held packages of multicolored sticky notes. Moving the top box to the floor, she tried the middle box. Rubber bands, dry erase markers, and Sharpies. After stacking the middle box on top of the former upper box, she sat on the stool to go through the bottom one. This one held even more of a hodgepodge of supplies.

She dug into the box, shifting the contents around as much as she could without removing anything. Ah, there at the very bottom sat a box of binder clips. She excavated her find but froze as the sound of voices filtered to her.

“What did you find out?” a familiar woman’s voice said.

“You sure we’re alone?” a male voice answered.

“Still scared of closets like when we were kids, Gene?”

Mae put a name to the taunting feminine voice. Yasmine Topher, who, in her opinion, had more brains than her two brothers but because she’d been born female—and the third child—she’d been largely regulated to the sidelines. But Mae saw through her facade of indifference and spied a woman hungry for power, which spelled trouble for Ryan. The middle child, Gene, struggled to find a place to shine outside of Ryan’s shadow. Gene wasn’t as brilliant as his older brother and not as engaging as his younger sister. If they found out she was eavesdropping, Yasmine would give her an earful or perhaps even complain to Ryan. Mae would simply shrink down even farther to avoid detection.

“We don’t have time for your pettiness.” Gene’s voice sounded too close for Mae’s comfort, but she didn’t dare move to check on their proximity to her hiding place. “We have a much bigger problem at hand.”

“Which is what?” Yasmine sounded bored. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

“So you say. The last vote wasn’t even close to passing in favor of the takeover. You promised you had info to make it happen.”

“Be patient. There will be an emergency vote in a few days.”

A phone buzzed. For an instant, Mae was terrified it was hers. But Yasmine answered with a sharp, “I told you not to call me at this number.”

Mae’s heart rate began to slow to normal speed. Maybe they would leave now, and she could take her binder clips and forget she’d ever heard them plotting against her boss. Ryan never remembered her birthday, but he always respected her abilities as his personal assistant. He didn’t deserve to be undermined by the two people who should have his back. Mae would have to do some digging to discover how the siblings would benefit from a takeover.

“I see.” Yasmine’s voice had grown cold and hard. “What have you been up to?”

“What do you mean?”

Even Mae, who could only hear the conversation, could tell Gene knew exactly what his sister was asking from the tone of his voice.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. I hear you’ve been dabbling in a little kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping? What are you talking about?”

Yasmine cursed so creatively, Mae would have applauded her performance if she’d been able to without giving herself away.

“I’m talking about Emily Ainsley. You had her kidnapped.”

“I did no such thing.”

His sister clearly didn’t believe him. “You panicked after the last vote. I told you I had everything under control. The Ainsley widow wasn’t even close to figuring out who embezzled the money—all the evidence still points to her saint of a dead husband. Your little stunt could cost us everything we’ve worked.”

“You said someone had info about Vie, so I thought maybe she’d uncovered something.”

“I also said I would find out and take care of it,” Yasmine hissed. “Now you’ve simply given me a bigger mess to clean up.”

“She won’t connect anything to me.” Gene’s whine grated on Mae’s nerves.

Mae avoided contact with the second son as much as possible because of his constant attitude of “not my fault” related to everything. If he hadn’t had such competent underlings, the operations part of the company would have collapsed years ago.

“She’s never seen anyone’s face. There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.”

Yasmine must have been considering her brother’s words because she was silent for nearly a minute—the seconds of which Mae ticked off in her head. “If you’re wrong, you will regret it. I haven’t worked this hard to lose over something as stupid as this.”

“I’ll take care of it. The Ainsley woman will never know anything about you or me. I promise.”

Mae expected him to add “or hope to die,” as the childish saying went.

“See that you do.” Yasmine’s heels clicked on the concrete floor. Mae breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened and closed.

Then she heard Gene’s voice again. Drat, he must have not followed his sister out and was making a phone call. She’d have to stay hidden a while longer.

“It’s me.”

She strained to hear his side of the conversation as he spoke softer.

“Have you gotten anything from her?”

He shuffled back and forth.

“No, if she hasn’t talked now, she doesn’t know anything about Vie.”

More pacing. “Taking her was a mistake.” Another short moment of silence before he whisper-yelled, “I am not authorizing that. I’m not a killer. Let me think.”

Mae’s heart raced as she listened to Gene negotiate with the kidnapper on what to do with Emily Ainsley. Gene must have found out about the email Emily had sent and the phone call asking for a new investigation into the embezzlement.

“No, here’s what you’ll do. There’s an old cemetery called Tippit’s Hill near Route 28 and Pacific Boulevard. Leave her there and make sure there’s nothing to tie her to us.”

A few seconds later, he uttered a curse word that lacked the force of his sister’s. “I’m the one calling the shots, so you listen to me. You will not get the last half of your payment until you send me photographic proof she’s in the cemetery, alive.”

That must have convinced the kidnapper because Gene added, “I thought so. I’ll be waiting to transfer the money as soon as I receive the photo.”

He paced several more times, each time coming a little bit closer to Mae’s hiding place, but then he halted with his back to her. “She’ll be sorry she treated me like an imbecile. I’m not as stupid as she and Ryan think I am.”

A charley horse squeezed Mae’s right calf, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She eased out of her high heel shoe and flattened her foot to ease the discomfort from the leg cramp. As the pain receded, Mae peeked around one of the boxes to see what was taking him so long to leave the storage room. If she stayed in this position much longer, more of her muscles would seize up.

Gene rubbed his hands together like an overdramatic movie villain. Really, the man had all the panache of a clown. No wonder Ryan and Yasmine treated him like the unwanted stepchild of the family. But that might make Gene the one to keep a closer eye on because even a well-behaved dog would turn on its master if provoked enough. Mae suspected Gene had been slapped down too many times by his siblings to not lash out when they least expected it.

“Yes, they will regret their actions, of that I will promise.” With that strange pronouncement, Gene finally strode out, closing the door behind him with a welcomed click. Mae breathed in and out to lower her accelerated pulse, then stood and carefully stretched her muscles. She’d heard of Tibbit’s Cemetery recently and racked her brain to recall the info as she paced over the same ground as Gene to work out the charley horse. On her third trip, she recalled the news story about a trio of data centers being built surrounding the defunct cemetery. No one would think to look for Emily there.

She picked up the binder clips and restacked the boxes, moving the stool to its proper place by the door. As she left the room, the idea to leave an anonymous tip about Emily’s whereabouts formed. Yes, she could use the burner phone to ensure no one knew her identity, but she wouldn’t call the police. She would phone that reporter who had an interview scheduled with Ryan on Friday. That would be safer for her, and it might drive another wedge between the siblings. She also suspected Yasmine or Gene was her mysterious contact. The more info she had about their actions, the more leverage she’d have with that person. Perhaps she would come out of this smelling like roses after all.

* * *

Emily blinked back tears of pain and frustration. The thin mattress did little to protect her from the cold concrete floor, and the blanket her captor had tossed in smelled like it had been in a damp place for years. She shivered without any covering since she’d rather freeze than sneeze all night from the musty fibers.

The urge to pray once more filled her soul. She used to have a close relationship with God, but that had slipped to the wayside with the unfounded accusations against Jay, then his untimely death at his arrest. Jay had been a good man, a godly man who had served others his entire life. His faith in God’s sovereignty and kindness toward those He had called to himself had never wavered. Even when the officers had come to arrest him, he had been shocked, yes, but gentle with them. Not fighting it but firm in his belief that he would be exonerated.

Fifteen years later, his name still bore the stain of an unresolved embezzlement charge, one that had tainted their entire family with the ugliness of an untreated tumor. While in rehab, Emily confronted her own cowardice in not pursuing the matter in the days after her husband’s death. She admitted her own fear back then was she would find out Jay wasn’t innocent. But she didn’t want to leave this earth without trying to clear his name. Then when Jetta had brought the envelope to her, Emily had taken that as a sign she had been moving in the right direction. Having Jetta and Seth assisting her meant she was no longer digging on her own.

If she’d known her feeble efforts would lead to these attacks on her daughter and herself, she never would have begun the journey. The price had become too high to pay. She’d already sacrificed her husband to the embezzler. She would not do the same with her youngest.

Jetta had been through so much, with breaking up with her abusive boyfriend and then his assault on her. Her pregnancy as a result of rape broke Emily’s heart, especially because Jetta had concealed it from her until she’d arrived in Virginia. Jetta still hadn’t told her siblings about the baby, and Emily hadn’t spilled Jetta’s secret either. That was Jetta’s decision, and Emily suspected her daughter wouldn’t say a word until she’d decided whether to keep the baby or give it up for adoption. Emily wasn’t sure which one would be best for Jetta and her mental wellbeing. That Jetta loved her baby was evident, but would the reminder of how it had been conceived be too much for her to bear as the baby grew? Would she grow to resent the child? Would another man ever want to raise the child of a rapist?

Seth’s strong, handsome face popped into her mind. Emily had been grateful for the young man’s assistance since he’d moved next door more than two years ago. He’d quickly become the go-to guy for moving furniture or carrying heavy objects. While he had a friendly outward demeanor, Emily had long suspected it hid a broken heart.

His inner strength reminded her of Jay, and she suspected Seth shared her late husband’s faith. A faith she had begun to notice more and more in Jetta too. A faith she should return to herself.

The door opened and two figures entered. The light from the hallway backlit them enough that she could tell both wore black clothing with black gloves and ski masks, leaving only their eyes visible. Emily shrank back on the mattress as they approached without a word.

“No!” Her scream ripped from her throat as one of them grabbed her arm and yanked her to a sitting position.

“Another sound, and we duck-tape your mouth,” the man growled in her ear.

She nodded her understanding and bit back another cry as the second man moved to her other side.

The two men hauled her upright and dragged her to the door. Emily fought to get her good foot underneath her to help ease the weight on her shoulders to no avail—they were moving too fast for her to assist. At what appeared to be the outer door, the men paused. One yanked a black hood from his back pocket.

Emily opened her mouth to protest but one look at his hard eyes had her snapping it closed. The man put the hood over her head but thankfully, didn’t tighten the drawstring Emily had spotted. Then a cool breeze swirled around her. Within seconds, she was bundled into the back of a vehicle—an SUV she thought—as the floor was higher than a sedan trunk. The hatch slammed shut and the vehicle roared off.

Emily lost track of the many twists and turns or how long they’d traveled before the vehicle slowed. The sounds of other vehicles faded as the road became more bumpy and less smooth, leading her to think it was unpaved. No gravel crunched underneath the wheels and no outside sounds gave her any clues as to their location. All she knew for certain was it must be away from people. Her heart pounded so hard, she was certain it would be heard by her captors.

She didn’t think either of the two men had been the one who interrogated her, but they might have been the ones who had grabbed her from the rehab center. Then the car halted, and the engine died.

The hatch opened and they hauled her out, leaving the black hood on her head. They again used her arms to move her away from the vehicle. Emily was in too much pain from her injured leg bumping along the ground to protest. If this was the end, she didn’t want to spend it begging for more breaths from ones who obviously didn’t care.

Then she was abruptly thrown onto the ground. Her head connected with something hard. Pain, this time in her head, overwhelmed her, and she welcomed the darkness that heaved her into oblivion.