Enemies and Playmates (25 page)

“He could easily have become a ranking officer. He could have gotten himself a wonderfully cushy desk job and eventually risen into politics.”

“Jesse never would have done that. He’d be miserable trapped at a desk all day. And I honestly can’t imagine him in any sort of political career. He’d be more likely to punch out a senator than sit down and make deals with one.”

Monica sighed, shook her head. “I suppose you’re right.”

Jesse stepped back into the room and all eyes turned his way. He cocked his head and grinned. “Is my fly down?”

Five minutes later his cell phone rang again. Monica frowned. “Why don’t you shut that thing off,” she said. “It is a holiday, you know.”

“I’m doing it just to piss you off,” Jesse said.

“Very funny.”

Jesse checked the display on his phone, then excused himself once more. Cassandra turned to Lauren. “I don’t know how you tolerate it,” she said. “I would have no patience for that sort of thing.”

Lauren could think of no polite response, so she said nothing.

Brian said, “Give the guy a break. This is, after all, his chosen profession. None of you would be complaining if he had become a surgeon and was now receiving calls from a hospital.”

Monica groaned. “That is precisely the point. Had he become a surgeon or had he continued on to become a lawyer, he would be getting paid what his time is worth. For goodness sake, even if he had stuck with police work, which I did not initially condone, he would be rising in the ranks and eventually hold a position worthy of him.”

Monica turned to Lauren. “Did you know that Jesse finished first in his class at the police academy? He also graduated from Boston College with a three-point-nine grade point average. That, while he was goofing off and refusing to take his studies seriously. Jesse is brilliant. He deserves better.”

“But he’s happy,” Lauren said.

Jesse stepped into the room and motioned for Lauren to go with him. “Excuse us,” he said.

They stepped into the hall. Jesse’s expression was strained. He stared off behind Lauren at nothing in particular, while his hand rested protectively around her waist. Lauren assumed he’d heard the conversation in the den and was upset. She touched his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Lauren searched Jesse’s eyes. Her father had been shot that morning. She hadn’t gotten to Jesse’s apartment until almost noon. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Jesse, did you… Are they right? Did you shoot my father?”

Lauren nodded. That much she didn’t doubt for a moment. “Then what else do you need to talk to me about?” A sudden panic gripped her. “Oh no, my mom. Is she okay?”

“Your mother’s fine,” Jesse said. He glanced at the doorway to the den. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “A red sports car was spotted speeding from the scene when your father was shot.”

***

Jesse parked his Mustang on the street in front of Gina’s house. The driveway was filled to capacity. Guests celebrating the holiday.

Lauren gazed at the house, with its neat tan shutters against soft beige siding. A shiver raced down her spine. “What are we going to do if she says she did it?”

“What do you want to do?” Jesse asked.

Lauren took a deep breath, shook her head. Odd that she was feeling so protective toward someone she’d hated only days ago. She’d since realized that Gina had been a victim of her father as well. She said, “I don’t know but I don’t want her arrested. She needs help, counseling, not jail.”

“I can’t promise we can keep that from happening. But I’ll do whatever I can.”

They walked to the front door. Lauren’s stomach twisted. The lavish dinner she’d eaten such a short time ago threatened to erupt like a volcano. “I wouldn’t blame her if she did it,” she murmured.

“I know.”

Gina came to the door, a broad smile lighting up her face. “Hey guys, I didn’t expect to see you today.” Then, noticing their somber expressions, her smile fell. “Uh-oh. Come in. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Laughter drifted out from the living room. “Can you come out here instead?” Lauren said.

Gina stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

Lauren stuffed her hands in her pockets. She wanted to see innocence in Gina’s eyes. She tried to say the words but she stammered and wound up uttering a mangled half-sentence that made no sense.

“Gina, if you were…” Lauren hesitated, searching for the right words. “If you spent the night there with him, the police will find out.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Gina said. She glanced nervously toward her front door. Then she stepped a few feet away and continued in a quiet tone. “I saw him briefly early last night. He…” Gina shivered, wrapped her arms around herself. “He said I have exactly one week to abort this baby. If I don’t, he promised he would take care of it for me. He doesn’t want a bastard child disturbing his perfect world.”

“Oh Gina…” Lauren said.

“For the first time, I’m truly afraid of him.”

They talked about that and about Gina’s options for a few minutes. Then Gina returned to the noisy party inside her house and Jesse drove Lauren home. They were both silent most of the way. When he pulled into her driveway, she said, “What do you think? She didn’t do it, right?”

“I’m innocent.” Jesse shrugged. “But I don’t know what kind of story your father has told them. And I don’t know why he would want the cops to think I did it, rather than find who really did.”

22

Lauren sat stiff on the living room sofa, clutching her cell phone and wishing for news from Jesse. She’d been sitting in that silent spot for two hours. During that time her phone had rung three times. All three calls had been from her mother. With a pang of guilt, she’d let the calls go to her voicemail.

The guilt she felt had nothing to do with her father. The bastard deserved to die. Part of her wanted to be shocked at feeling that way. He was, after all, her father. Still, the simple fact was that he deserved what he had gotten and worse. And she was okay with feeling that way.

However, leaving her mother to deal with it all was a different story. That was where the guilt came in. She should be at the hospital. Not for her father. But to support her mother.

How could she, though? How was she supposed to face her mother with all she knew and keep pretending they were a happy family? How could she continue to keep the secrets?

No doubt her mother would be playing the part of the loving, dedicated wife. No one would see her bruises because she covered them all and hid inside herself. Her mother had been shattered but no one ever saw the broken pieces. Even Lauren was guilty of overlooking them.

Lauren swiped a tear from her cheek. She stood and stretched the kinks from her back. Why hadn’t Jesse called? The cops couldn’t have arrested him. That was crazy. They had no evidence. But they did have her father’s word. And her father had his connections.

Why would her father have said Jesse did it? Was he simply taking this opportunity to ruin Jesse’s life?

Lauren’s head throbbed. Too many questions. Too many complications.

Somehow she found herself upstairs, standing in the doorway to Stephen’s room. A thin layer of dust had settled over his furniture. She leaned against the doorframe, tears sliding down her cheeks. She should have known how desperate he’d become. She should have tried harder to save him.

“I won’t let him get away with it,” Lauren said to the room. “You said I was the strong one. Well I’m trying to live up to that and I could really use your help. I’m tired of keeping the silence. He has to be stopped.”

The garage door eased open and a car rumbled inside. Lauren took a deep breath and wiped the tears that had slid down her cheeks. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t pretend. She couldn’t stand by and watch her father destroy everyone she loved.

“Lauren!” Kara called. “Are you home?”

Lauren descended the stairs, meeting her mother at the bottom. Kara’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She said, “I’ve been calling you for hours. I’ve left three messages.”

“I know,” Lauren said softly.

“You father is in the hospital,” Kara said.

Lauren couldn’t bring herself to comfort her mother. It was all too much of a pretense. Why would any woman be upset if her abuser had been shot?

“The bullet lodged in his shoulder,” Kara finally said. “The surgeons removed it and said there was no serious damage. He’s in recovery now.”