Deceit, page 16
My legs were getting cramped.
Perry slowed. Veered right.
He exhaled a long breath, flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. “We did it.”
I wriggled up into my seat. Melissa did the same. We were on a quiet residential street, no cars around. We’d made it. I could barely believe it. We’d made it.
A prayer of gratitude breathed through my lips.
But this night wasn’t over. Far from it.
“Now what?” Melissa’s voice mixed relief and anxiety. “Where do we go?”
Perry shot me a sideways questioning look.
“Now I make a phone call.” I reached in my purse for my cell phone.
FORTY-ONE
JULY 2004
Melissa was synching Baxter’s schedule on his computer with his Blackberry when a call came in from Rex Shalling in Texas. Mr. Shalling and his wife were moving to the Vonita area and were buying a multimillion-dollar home in an upscale area. The sale would go through in a few days. It was a sale Baxter badly needed.
“Just a moment, Mr. Shalling.” Melissa put him through to Baxter.
“Hello, Rex.” Baxter leaned back in his chair. “How are things with your job transfer?”
A long pause. “I see. How wonderful for you.” Baxter’s voice held a different tone. Jovial but forced. A client wouldn’t have heard the deep disappointment. Melissa did.
She turned to watch Baxter. His shoulders slumped.
He hung up the phone and stared at it.
“Bad news?”
A moment passed before Baxter answered. “He’s ending up getting a promotion in Texas. Won’t need to move after all.” He spoke without turning around.
Melissa closed her eyes. Baxter had lucked out by being both listing and selling agent on the deal. Even after cutting his fee from 6 percent to 5, he stood to make around $140,000.
All that money—gone with one phone call.
Baxter slammed his fist against his desk. He shook his head, rubbed his temple. “I can’t believe this. What is happening with my sales?”
Melissa rose and walked over to him. Laid a hand on his shoulder. Her palm prickled. Never had she touched him like that. “I’m really sorry.”
He shrank away from her touch, his voice sharpening. “Not now, Melissa.”
She pulled her arm away, stricken.
Baxter straightened and threw a glance out the office window. No one was in the hallway. He raked his gaze up to her face. “Sorry, didn’t mean that. I just…someone might see you.”
Understanding flooded Melissa. She backed up one step and gave a tight nod. Not now, he’d said. Not now.
Baxter turned away. Melissa went back to her desk.
She blinked at her computer. What had she been doing?
The atmosphere in the office tremored. Two minutes passed without a sound. Melissa sneaked a peek at Baxter. He sat with one leg stretched out, his left arm on the desk. Staring out the window. His fingers rose and fell in a slow, silent tap.
“Melissa?”
“Yeah.”
“That was nice of you.”
She gazed at his back. How she wanted to throw her arms around him and comfort him. Hang on and not let go. He worked hard all day, and what did Linda do? Spend money. Well, let the woman shop till she dropped. Melissa wasn’t going to spend another dime. She had enough clothes for a lifetime anyway.
“No problem,” she said.
On their drive home an hour later Melissa clutched her purse in her lap, toying with its handle. There was so much she wanted to say. Not one word of it would come.
“Not now, Melissa.”
They stopped at a red light. “Don’t tell Linda about the sale falling through,” Baxter said.
“You know I never tell her what happens at work.”
Baxter turned his head and surveyed her. Melissa met his gaze with meaning-filled eyes.
The light turned green. Baxter focused on the road. “She’s out tonight after dinner.” His tone was so casual. “Got some church volunteer meeting.”
Melissa’s heart flipped. “Oh. That’s right.” She pushed the purse around on her legs. “I’ll do the dishes for her.”
“You always do the dishes.”
“Well, then, all the more reason to do them tonight.”
Baxter smiled.
As they drove into the garage his mood darkened. Melissa could almost see the weight descend upon him. He slammed the Mercedes’ door. His jaw hardened, eyes turning cool as the moment when he faced his wife approached. Melissa trailed Baxter into the kitchen, giving him plenty of room. Not for herself, but to send a message to Linda.
They found her standing at the stove, fluffing rice in a pan with a fork. The smell of baking salmon filled the air. “Hi, honey.” Linda smiled at her husband, her eyes gauging. Melissa gave a slight shake of her head. Linda’s body tensed. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” He walked past her and left the kitchen, on his way upstairs to change.
Melissa and Linda exchanged glances. Melissa lay her purse on the counter and walked to a cabinet for plates. “Let me help. I hear you have a meeting tonight.”
“Yes, at seven-thirty.” Linda stilled and cocked her head. No sound from Baxter. “Did something bad happen today?” she whispered.
Work questions were one of the hardest parts of trying to keep balance in the household. Melissa couldn’t betray Baxter by telling Linda the truth. At the same time she needed to play Linda’s ally.
“I don’t know. I had a lot of copying to do. If he took some bad calls it was while I was out of the office.”
Linda set down the fork. “I just don’t understand why he’s gotten so bad the last few weeks.”
Melissa moved closer to the stove, one ear tilted toward the stairs. “I don’t either, but I’m so sorry. I mean, when I first came here I never would have guessed…”
“I know.” Linda’s voice tainted in bitterness. “You and the rest of the world.” She replaced the lid on the rice and turned down the heat. Such simple movements, but to Melissa they symbolized Linda’s life. Keep a lid on it. Try to keep Baxter from boiling over.
Why did adults have to be so confusing?
“When did he first hit you?” Melissa kept her voice low.
Linda stared across the room as if watching her own private screen. “Three months after we got married.”
“Nothing before that? Not a clue?”
“Not one. He had me fooled like everybody else.” She cradled her hands at her waist, watching one thumb rub over another. “The first time he did it I was so stunned. Just…shocked. He apologized later. Promised he’d never do it again. But of course he did.” Linda’s mouth twisted. “After awhile he stopped promising.”
Indignation rolled up Melissa’s spine. Linda was beautiful and smart. She could live her own life. “Why don’t you leave?”
Linda turned world-weary, resigned eyes upon her. “I love him.”
“How can you, when he treats you like that?”
A long moment passed as Linda’s gaze fastened upon Melissa, as if staring into the depths of her. “Why don’t you leave?”
Melissa’s jaw flexed. Just what was that supposed to mean? Anger bubbled within, her mind flashing through a series of pictures. The trashy trailer she grew up in…her drunken mother’s slit-eyed, hateful looks…bruises on Melissa’s body…her bedroom at the Jacksons’ house…Baxter’s face. Melissa stared back at Linda, her mouth hardening. “Because my life right now is a hundred times better than where I came from.”
A hint of a pained, knowing smile flickered across Linda’s lips. Her expression read so many things at once. That at sixteen, what did Melissa understand, and who was she to judge? That she could not begin to know Linda’s heartache, because she’d never been betrayed by the man she loved. (Stepfathers and a lousy mother didn’t count?) That Melissa would change her tune in a hurry if Baxter started mistreating her. (That would never happen.) Linda opened her mouth—maybe to say one of these things, maybe to say them all. Then she closed it. She turned away.
Baxter’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Melissa swiveled to a drawer and started pulling out utensils. Linda opened the oven door and slid out a pan of baked salmon.
Dinner went pretty well, although all three of them were quiet. Melissa figured the church meeting was a point for Linda’s side. It wouldn’t do for Baxter to hit her too close to her seeing her church friends. She might get all teary, and how to explain that?
Or maybe he just had other things on his mind.
Melissa could hardly eat. Her veins burned. She hated Baxter’s abuse of his wife, but neither did she like Linda’s know-more-than-you attitude. Fact was, Linda got hit because she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was an adult, not the kid Melissa had been in her trailer days. If Linda really thought Baxter was so bad, she’d march into church and tell everyone the truth about her husband. Press charges against him. And if her friends and the police didn’t believe her story—show them her bruises. But she wasn’t about to do that, was she? Because Linda knew the truth. She was the only one in the world Baxter treated like that. Everyone else knew him as a great man. The problem lay with her, not him.
After dinner Melissa did the dishes while Linda prepared to leave. At exactly 7:25 she pulled out of the garage on her way to church. The perfect volunteer, never late.
Baxter was watching TV in the den, sitting on his end of the couch. Flipping through channels, as usual. Melissa went upstairs to brush her teeth, then joined him on the opposite end of the sofa. For five minutes they were silent, staring at the TV, seeing nothing. The air between them shimmied. Then it rippled. Melissa found herself breathing fast and shallow, trying hard not to show it. Baxter crossed his legs male-style, one ankle against the other knee. Feigning relaxation. A man in his castle at the end of a work day, chilling out.
His muscles itched. Melissa felt it.
The channels kept switching, as if all of Baxter’s energy released through his thumb. Local news to an old movie to a commercial to another commercial to a cop show. Baxter returned to the movie. Some oldie that didn’t look a bit interesting. They watched it for a couple minutes.
Abruptly Baxter leaned forward, as if yanked by a noose. Melissa watched from the corner of her eye. He focused on the remote, eyes searching for some button. His finger moved, and he pressed. The sound muted.
Melissa turned her head and looked at him.
Baxter dropped the remote. He gazed back at Melissa, lips pressing.
He rose and crossed the four steps to her end of the couch. Sat down beside her. His eyes darkened with guilt-ridden hunger.
The next thing she knew they were in each other’s arms.
FORTY-TWO
FEBRUARY 2010
“Who are you calling?” Suspicion sharpened Melissa’s voice. I’d already punched in the number, my stomach trembling. If this didn’t work, I had no back-up plan.
“My brother.”
Rain began to fall. A few drops, then steady. Perry switched on the wipers. We were on El Camino, a major street in San Jose.
“He doesn’t live in Vonita, does he?” Melissa pressed. “I’m not setting foot in Vonita!”
“If I’d wanted to take you to Vonita, we’d go to Perry’s.” The line began to ring in my ear. “He lives in Hollister.”
Perry gave me another sideways glance but said nothing. Hollister was the San Benito County seat. We’d need to head south, then veer east.
Second ring. I checked the car’s digital clock. Nine-forty. On a Sunday night. Dan would certainly wonder when he saw my caller ID.
The third ring cut off in the middle. “Hello, Joanne?”
Dan’s reedy voice vibrated in my ear. I clicked down the volume. “Yeah, Dan, it’s me. Sorry to call you so late, but I need to come over.”
“Right now?”
Dan stood six-two, a wiry man in his mid-fifties. Divorced, kids grown. A no-nonsense kind of guy. His unlikely combination of dark hair and intense blue eyes commanded attention. That piercing gaze could bore right through a person when he wanted to make a point. Which was often.
“I have to see you now. I’ve…run into some trouble. Got shot at. It’s not safe for me to go home.”
“Shot at! By some skip?”
“Look, could I just come and talk? I’ll tell you about it.”
“Want police here?”
“No. No police.”
Melissa made a gasping sound. “No!”
“All right,” Dan said. “You coming from Vonita?”
“Mountain View, so it’ll be a little while. And, Dan, when we get there—”
“We?”
I winced. Hadn’t meant to let that slip just yet. “I’ve got two people with me. I’ll call you when we’re on your street. Can you watch for us and let us in quickly?”
“Joanne, if you think you’re still in danger, I’ll call the police. They’ll intercept you wherever you are and escort you here.”
“No. Please. Just trust me on this one. Okay?”
He hesitated. “All right. But once you get here, I call the shots.”
That was Dan—always gaining control. A fighter by birth. If Melissa thought Perry had been short-tempered with her, wait till she got in Dan’s face. “Fine by me.”
The rain became a downpour as I hung up.
Perry turned on 87 South toward Gilroy, where we’d catch 101 and then Highway 25 into Hollister. The drive was close to fifty miles. In the rain—over an hour.
“Tell me, Joanne.” Melissa tapped me on the shoulder. “Tell me how to disappear.”
“Let’s wait till we get to Dan’s house.”
“Just tell me about getting a new ID. You know people who can get me one?”
A faint smile crossed Perry’s lips.
“Buying a fake ID is what you don’t want to do,” I told her. “How do you know whose life you’re buying? She could have warrants out on her, unpaid parking tickets, creditors after her. Something, anything that would cause authorities to come looking for you. That’s exactly what you don’t need.”
“So what do I do?”
My eyes closed. I leaned back against the headrest. “You keep your own ID. And learn how not to leave a trail.”
One thing I remembered about Melissa—when she needed to learn something for her own advantage, she learned it. Linda had bragged how quickly she picked up the necessary skills for working in Baxter’s office.
“Is it complicated?” Melissa’s tone had returned to one of reined-in excitement, as if she relished the challenge.
“Yes. You’ll have to keep at it. One slip—and someone like me can catch you.”
“I want to know!”
“We’ll talk when we get to Dan’s.”
“Tell me now.”
“When we get to Dan’s.”
She argued. I wouldn’t budge. After a time she muttered a curse and fell silent. Wonderful Perry said nothing. I wished I could talk to him, tell him how grateful I was. Later. When this was all over.
My eyes remained closed. I drifted, the drum of raindrops fading. A blanket settled over my brain, warm and smothering…
The next thing I knew Perry was pushing my shoulder. “Joanne.”.
“Hmm?” My mouth moved before my mind engaged. I opened my eyes, blinked a few times. The rain had stopped. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yeah. We’re just outside Hollister. Where do I go?”
“Oh. Okay.” I sat up straight and stretched my neck one way, then the other. Tried to shake loose the fog in my head. Not a sound from the backseat. I twisted around. Melissa sat with arms folded. Her eyes met mine, then cut away. The meaning was clear. I’d told her she had to wait for what she wanted, made her subservient. To Melissa, an unpardonable sin.
I pictured the upcoming scene at Dan’s house, and a chill trickled down my spine.
My focus turned to the road. “Turn right at the next stoplight, Perry.” I fished my phone from my purse and called Dan. “We’re here. See you in about three minutes.”
“I’ll be watching.”
Melissa’s clothes rustled. “I don’t see why we had to come all the way down here.”
“You see anybody following us?” Perry shot her a look in the rearview mirror.
“No.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
“There’s the street—Maxley Lane.” I pointed. “Turn left. It’s the third house down on the right.”
We pulled up to Dan’s place, a white stucco rancher with black shutters. Stark-colored and neat, like its owner. I’d last been here on a weekend to pick up some last-minute papers on a skip.
“Okay, Melissa.” I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go.”
“About time.”
I breathed a prayer.
The door of the house opened as we piled out of the car. Dan stood silhouetted in his entryway, one hand low on his hip. We scurried up the short sidewalk, tense to be out in the open, even though no one could have followed us. Our host stepped back, ushering us in with a wave of his arm, as if hurrying along errant children. We stopped in the hallway. Dan closed and locked the door.
“Joanne.” He nodded at me. He was wearing jeans and loafers, a tucked-in long-sleeve shirt. His gaze moved to my companions.
“This is Melissa.” I touched her arm, feeling her stiffness. She muttered a hello, both hands clasping her purse in front of her. “And Perry.” The two men shook hands.
Melissa’s eyes darted from Dan to me, making comparisons. Clearly, we didn’t look a thing alike.
“Let’s go sit down.” Dan gestured toward his living room.
We followed him in. Dan and Perry settled in matching armchairs, Melissa and I on opposite ends of a couch, facing them. I made sure she took the side further into the room. We placed our purses on the floor. She cast me a look that read this better not take long. Her own agenda to glean from me all she could played out in the impatient shake of her right leg, her fidgeting fingers. Perry sat with back straight, large hands spread on his thighs. Alertness and keen curiosity shone in his eyes. He surveyed Melissa and her handbag, directly across from him, then focused on me.
