Down and Dead in Dallas, page 7
“Charm her. If that doesn’t work, then get creative,” Miss Emily said. “I don’t care how you get her here, Jackson, just do it.” She softened her tone. “You do understand the critical nature of this situation, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” It wasn’t his understanding that concerned him. Would Caroline understand? Highly unlikely, and he wasn’t free to explain, which means he would have to insist. So much for her warm smiles and the amusement that lit up her eyes. He sighed, already missing both. “We’ll travel tonight.”
“Excellent. I’ll tell Lester. Speckles will meet you at the gate and alert Lucas. I expect after this he’s going to make life difficult for everyone for a while, especially the guards.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jackson would bank on it. Lucas was a dedicated security chief and devoted to the residents. He’d be furious—not in anger, but in fear—Caroline had left and no one knew it.
“See you then,” Miss Emily said. “Drive safe and keep me apprised of any developments.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Stowing the phone, Jackson did a mental shift. Now how exactly could he explain this development to Caroline?
The possibility of driving all the way to the Park with her in the trunk held no appeal.
Chapter 11
“If she refuses,” Matthew told Jackson, “you can always stuff her in the trunk.”
“I thought of that, but—“
Rose laid an exasperated sigh on her beloved that he’d be remembering for months. “What’s wrong with you two?” She glared at her husband and then at Jackson.
“What?” Jackson shrugged, propped a foot against the oak’s trunk behind him. “Miss Emily said Caroline had to go.” He dropped his voice even though they’d come outside under the shade tree to be certain Caroline didn’t overhear them. “Critical to the residents, she said.”
Rose parked her hands on her hips. “You do not stuff a woman who’s been abused like Caroline was into the trunk of a car, Jackson Lee Grant.” She swerved her gaze to Matthew. “You should know better. Sounds to me as if you’ve been spending too much time with Lester.”
Lester was loved by all three of them, but he’d been Rose’s neighbor in Biloxi, Mississippi: A senior, insomniac who often forgot his pants and got arrested. Every time Rose had to bail him out, she had to use her grocery money to do it, which meant she’d be stuck eating peanut butter sandwiches for a week. She finally bought him some boxers with money printed on them to help him remember, and because his briefs were getting ratty anyway. But she knew as well as Jackson that had been a ruse and a trust test. Lester was as sharp as a tack. His logic was twisted, but his mind worked fine using Lester-logic. This, putting Caroline in the trunk, in Rose’s opinion, was Lester-logic.
“It was a hypothetical, honey,” Matthew assured Rose. “If Caroline refused to go willingly...”
“I see. A hypothetical.” She frowned deeper and held it to be sure they both felt it full-force and effect. “And has it occurred to either of you Einsteins that Jackson drives a truck.” She lifted her arms; her hands, palm up. “No trunk.”
“I wasn’t serious, Rose,” Matthew insisted, an amused lift at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m glad to hear it. We have enough to worry about without Lester-logic invading your brain.”
Jackson planted a hand against the tree. “Has it occurred to you she might not be willing to go, Rose?”
“Why would she refuse?”
Rose was confused? Seriously? He checked his sister again, and she was indeed confused. “Gee, I don’t know.” Jackson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “She doesn’t know any of us. We’re wanting to haul her to another state for an undisclosed reason when all she remembers is Martin and his thugs. Your driving today scared five years off her, taking out the azaleas and the trash can and nearly mowing down a mailbox. Then you threaten to shoot Martin with the sheriff’s gun.”
“I don’t think you’ll win with that one.” Matthew nudged him. “Just saying.”
Jackson gave Matthew that one, but soldiered on. “All that, Rose. Well, I can’t think of a single reason she wouldn’t be eager to jump all over taking a trip with us.”
“I did not take out the azaleas.” Rose hiked her chin. “Just almost. Seeing her gun print under her t-shirt scared me.” Rose worried her lower lip with her teeth. “But you do have a point. Maybe she wouldn’t feel as threatened if she were traveling with just you.”
Matthew agreed. “Not so outnumbered. Yeah, that might help.”
Rose latched onto the idea. “We don’t have to be there for the associates’ meeting for a couple days. You and she go now and get her head examined. “ Rose looked contrite over that unfortunate remark. “You know what I mean.”
“Rose and I will follow in a couple days.” Matthew nodded.
“She might be more open to going under those conditions.” Jackson did what he should have done coming out of the gate. His sister wouldn’t be happy with anything except following her own thoughts on disclosure. It was the abuse thing. She’d had some bad foster parent experiences along with the good ones, and she took serious exception to any kind of force being exerted against anyone or anything. “How do you think we should handle disclosure?”
“Tell her the truth.”
That Jackson hadn’t expected. “All of it?”
“Of course not. That would just put her in more jeopardy,” Rose said. “And us. We don’t know if she’s stable, though I haven’t seen anything to make me think she isn’t.”
“You mean, aside from her not remembering us or being here?” Matthew said.
“Well, there’s that,” Rose reluctantly agreed. “But she handled the flower crisis just fine, and she didn’t shoot Martin Easton on sight today. That took a lot of stability and self-discipline, considering.”
Jackson couldn’t fault Rose’s thinking there.
Matthew rubbed at his neck. “Maybe just tell her about bringing her here at Christmas then taking her down to Sampson Park. Skip the whole Dixie side-trip and do not mention Mr. Perini or the legal precautions taken there. If you have to get into that, I’d wait and do it at the Park.”
“That would minimize the possibility of her going to an outsider on anything.” Less risky for the group. Jackson straightened up. “We all agree then?”
Matthew nodded. Rose hesitated. “Give me a minute. I’m factoring in the fact that she’s packing.”
“What kind of gun is it? Do you know?”
Rose looked at Matthew. “A 1911. Nearly certain it’s a .45.”
“Serious weapon,” Jackson said, half-surprised. If she could rack it, she was stronger than she looked.
“Very serious weapon.” Rose agreed. “I say you should tell her what you must to get her to go, but not so much you shake her up. If she gets worried about us and our motives, she might see you as just another Martin. That happens and she’ll do her best to give us all the slip, head underground, and disappear.”
Spending months looking for her held less appeal than the trunk. Jackson grimaced. No one in the group would be happy with that scenario. “She could skip out. Miss Emily said she was going through a rebellious stage. Making her own choices.”
Caroline walked out the door and onto the porch. She stopped at the stairs down to the lawn and raised her voice to carry over to them. “Is this a private conversation or may I join you?”
“Don’t blow this, Jackson,” Rose warned, speaking softly so Caroline wouldn’t hear. “They’ll have your head.”
They would. And then some. Jackson walked back toward the porch. “We’re just coming in.”
“We’ve got to go check on supper,” Rose said. She and Matthew walked past Caroline and went inside.
Jackson stopped closer. “Let’s talk a minute, Caroline.”
“Something is wrong. It’s written all over your face.” Her eyes stretched wide and she gasped. “Oh, no. Martin got away from the deputy, didn’t he?”
“Actually, he did. Harry called a few minutes ago.” That disclosure put her on edge. Now, unfortunately, Jackson had to knock her over the cliff. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“I knew that’s why y’all came out here to talk. So I wouldn’t hear.” She blinked rapidly, hunched her shoulders, preparing to fight or take flight. “I—I have to go.” She turned to leave.
Jackson snagged her arm. “Go where?”
“Away,” she said, trying to free her arm from his clasp, but he held fast. She stopped tugging and stared at him, calmed her voice. “You’ve got to let go of me, Jackson. Martin will come back here. You, Rose and Matthew will all be in danger. It’s me he wants. If I’m no longer here, he will leave to come after me and all of you will be safe.”
Jackson continued his hold but gentled it, and his voice. “If he returns here, we’ll handle it. Here, you’re safe. Out there alone, not so much.”
“That’s why you had the private session? To decide whether I should stay or go?” Suspicion filled her eyes and his non-response confirmed it. “Why didn’t you tell me? I should have been in on the discussion. He wants to kill me.”
Jackson was losing her. He had to turn things around. “You might not realize it, but we know you don’t remember us or being here, Caroline. We don’t know why you don’t remember, and that’s okay. The less said about that, the better.”
“You don’t want to know what happened to me?”
“Of course, I care what happened to you. I only meant it’s for professionals to sort out who are trained to find answers the right way.” Was he telling her too much, too little? How would she respond to being told her memory had failed her? Was she already aware of it? “Honestly, we’re not sure what to tell you or what might be…”
Suspicion and her accusatory demeanor fell to understanding. “Too much?”
She’d gotten a grip on them that wasn’t horrific. Jackson nodded, confirming it. “We came out here to talk because we didn’t want you to be afraid or to not feel safe. Martin might come here but you have nothing to fear from him, okay?”
“Okay.” She believed Jackson, and looked torn, as if she wanted to explain something to him but changed her mind, opting not to say anything.
“Can we discuss what I want to discuss now?” he asked.
“Oh, no. I know that tone.” Her hand at the soft hollow of her throat, spanning her collarbones, she moved toward the nearest rocker. “I think I’d better sit down for this.”
She expected the worst. Jackson wished he could reassure her, but if he did and then dropped the truth on her, she’d never again believe a word that came out of his mouth.
Years ago, Lester and Rose had told him, once trust is broken, it’s broken. Things can never go back to the way they were or be the same. With a lot of work, trust might be patched, but there would always be a crack where doubt seeped in and gnawed at the marrow of your bones. “Yeah, you probably should.”
Chapter 12
The urge to wring her hands burned in Christine.
She laced them in her lap to keep from mangling them. She’d never believed she was the hand-wringing type, but after the day they’d had, and now learning that Martin was still on the loose… Well, not wringing them required conscious effort and challenging discipline.
Jackson’s expression didn’t help. His square jaw was tight, teeth near cracking, his eyes guarded, and if his words got any stiffer, they could make the trip from his mouth, across the little table between them and over to her all on their own. Strange, because when he’d stood behind Martin in the chapel, Jackson had seemed alert but loose, ready for whatever happened. Now, he seemed board-stiff and extremely uncomfortable. She played the hunch. “This isn’t about Martin, is it?”
“Only indirectly,” Jackson admitted, choosing his words carefully. “It’s more about you.”
Seriously worried, she decided. For her and for his family. “I’ve already told you I’m going. I realize that my being here puts you all in danger.”
Jackson braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
He didn’t answer, studied his shoes and her feet.
Christine refused to prod him. Clearly, he was deciding exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. The least she could do was to give him time to work through it.
“I told you. We know you don’t remember us, or being here,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. He lifted his gaze to look into her eyes. “But we all remember you.”
Her heartbeat again sped up, thudding deep. They knew she wasn’t Caro. Having no idea what was safe to say that wouldn’t cost her their help in finding her sister, she stayed quiet.
“I can’t do this, Caroline,” he finally said. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“What can’t you do?” What was this?
He didn’t answer that question, either. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted on his seat. “Look, I don’t know what’s happened to you, or why you can’t remember us. I don’t know if you know. But you trusted me once, and I protected you. We all did. So I’m asking you to trust me again.”
He feared freaking her out, or damaging her. Her insides twisted. They thought she was fragile, that maybe she’d snapped. Rebelling inside—Christine Branch did not do fragile or snap—she somehow managed to keep her mouth shut and her voice civil. “Trust you on what?”
Jackson blew out a sharp breath. “I need to take you somewhere, and I want you to come with me without asking questions.”
She could do that. Relieved, she started to say so, but he lifted a staying hand.
“No, I need to say this.” He softened his voice. “I’m a chef, not a doctor, and I don’t want to do anything that could hurt you. I—we—think you’ve been hurt enough.” He let her see his concern and uncertainty. “Anything I say could be the wrong thing, you know what I mean? To me, those are unacceptable risks.” He gazed off toward the large oak, its shadows melting on the lawn under the weak setting sun. “But I need to go and you need to come with me. So will you trust me, Caroline?”
Christine didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know she wasn’t Caro. They thought she’d had some sort of breakdown and were really worried about harming her. Warmth settled in her chest. The kid gloves were to protect her not them. “I know you said no questions, but may I ask where is it you want to take me?”
He nodded, then looked her straight in the eye. “Back to Sampson Park.”
Christine nearly fell out of her rocker. She’d been searching for Sampson Park since Caro mentioned it on Christmas and she had found nothing on it. Her techie friends had also failed. Between them, they’d concluded Sampson Park had to have been a euphemism or a code for some other place. Now, Jackson wanted to take her there?
Easy. Easy. She cautioned herself to tamp her reaction and not seem overly eager. Caro would naturally be uneasy and reluctant—because she didn’t know any of them and didn’t know the reason her memory had failed. “Am I allowed to ask why?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I hope you won’t.”
Because he might say the wrong thing and deepen her breakdown. Since August, twice Christine had wished for the luxury of a breakdown. Constantly under pressure from Martin and his thugs, worrying herself sick about Caro, Christine fleetingly had thought she needed the respite. But it was against her basic nature to give in to something like that. Both times, she convinced herself she couldn’t afford the luxury—and seeing the impact a perceived breakdown had on Jackson had her sorry she ever had permitted the thought to cross her mind. “You have a good reason for taking me there?”
“I do.”
She studied him for a long minute. Because he let her, she stopped rocking and focused on his unsettled gaze, more confident in her innate reaction. “I think you’re a good man with a good heart, Jackson. I think, if Martin had tried anything today, you would have done your best to clean his clock. I don’t remember you or Rose and Matthew. That has my head telling me I’d be crazy to go anywhere with you. But my heart and every instinct in my body says to trust you.”
“You can trust me. You did before and you had no reason to regret it. You won’t now, either.”
She believed him. Of course, that was irrelevant, really. In their last conversation, Caroline was about to leave for Sampson Park with the chef. Jackson was a chef. So she had to have been about to leave Even with him. “I also think you’re reluctant to tell me much because you’re afraid I’m too fragile and not because you have nefarious plans for me. Am I right about that?”
He laced his hands on his bent knees. “Yes.”
“Your intentions are good—for me, I mean. You don’t intend to harm me?”
“Lord, no.”
“And you know I’m armed and, if your intentions are not good and you should make such an attempt, I will shoot you.”
He nodded a third time. “You’ll have no reason to do that. I give you my word.”
She leaned closer, dropped her voice, and looked up into his eyes. “Jackson, tell me. What’s your word worth?”
He didn’t blink, twitch or flinch, or evade. “To me, everything.”
She waited but he didn’t add anything. “Thank you.” He’d asked for no questions but tolerated the ones she needed answered to ease her mind. Finally, she said what she intended to say all along. “All right, then. I’ll trust you. I’ll go with you to Sampson Park.”
He clasped her hand seeming humble, but his palm felt clammy. “Thank you, Caroline.”
So, she deduced, he was sincere but her trust had little to do with anything. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she actually had a choice. He would prefer her trust, but with or without it, he’d be taking her with him to this mysterious place.
Fortunately, they wanted the same thing. Barely able to contain her excitement, she lowered her gaze to the porch. Jackson knew Sampson Park, it was a real place, and he had taken Caro there.
