Kiss Me Awake (23 page)

She turned on the television with the remote then tossed it on the bed and went into the bathroom. It was compact, but clean and smelled of disinfectant. She unwrapped a bar of complimentary soap and washed her face, then fetching her toothbrush and toothpaste from her bag, she brushed her teeth and swallowed two aspirins with a cup of tap water.  

Jaida left the bathroom and turned on another light, her mind churning with haunting images of the dead kitten. Just how far would Gale take this? 

She paced the worn carpet and then went to the window. Lifting the curtains, she looked out. The parking lot was only partially full. Auggie was gone. She told him that she was safe in her own home, but was she? 

Maybe it was time to call Spencer and request his help. By tomorrow morning, she would have a cashier’s check in her hand, and this would all end. She released the drapes, letting them fall back into place. The remedy was simple enough, but she still couldn’t bring herself to do it.

She sank down on the edge of the bed and aimed the remote at the television, raising the volume. A man’s face filled the screen, his scripted words urging her to call their toll-free number for a free credit report.

Numb, she slid her shoes off with her toes and scooted to the top of the mattress then leaned back against the pillows. The shock was just too much to process.

The window unit shuddered, the ancient appliance giving its all to keep the room cool. Fatigue pressed down on her eyelids, and they slid closed. The newscaster on TV reported on the storm damage over hurricane-force winds rising up out of the south.

She should say a prayer for the residents, for their safety. Her mother, Eva would have. They would have joined hands and lifted up their voices together. It seemed a lifetime ago that her heart was soft and her faith sincere. When she still believed that God was a God who answered.

When she packed her bag tonight, she came across the Bible Eva left for her. She’d brought it along, tucked it inside the bag, under her change of clothing.

She had kept it hidden away at the back of the closet shelf. Tonight was the first time she’d picked it up since her mom had passed, the first time she even came close to keeping the promise she had made to read it. 

Jaida opened her eyes. Flecks of glitter sparkled in the popcorn ceiling. Her own pursuits had lost their sparkle and left her wanting. She rolled from the bed, dug the Bible out of her bag then lay back down with it, the pillows swallowing her up.

She flipped the book open. A frayed purple ribbon was caught in the crease. Had the page been marked for a purpose? She propped her knees up and balanced the book across them then began by reading the verses that were highlighted in yellow
.
She would read a few of them and be done with it, promise fulfilled.

“In You O Lord, I put my trust; Let me never be put to shame. Deliver me in Your righteousness, and cause me to escape.”

Could she ever trust God as the psalmist did? Did she want to? She reread the verse a few times, memorizing the words and absorbing the meaning, then flipped the pages until she found more highlighted verses.

“Your close friends have set upon you and prevailed against you; Your feet have sunk in the mire. And they have turned away again.”

What had her mom found in these lines that moved her to permanently mark them? Were they a glimpse of her struggles? Did they encourage her? Bring her hope when she had no hope?

Flimsy pages rustled beneath anxious fingertips. Verse after verse, line after line, Jaida read on, her motive shifting from keeping a promise to feeding a newfound hunger that gnawed at her soul. 

The book of Ezekiel was riddled with highlighted verses, and notes were penned in blue ink along the margins. It must have held some significance.

“An Allegory of Unfaithful Jerusalem.”
Jaida skimmed the heading of the sixteenth chapter then read the sentences overlaid in yellow.

“But you trusted in your beauty and used your fame to become a prostitute. You lavished your favors on anyone who passed by and your beauty became his.”

Tiny pricks stung her eyes and the words blurred. It was for Jerusalem, it was for her. It was for the unfaithful. It was for her. 

She wanted to be wanted. But the men, the relationships, they were never enough. Want was shallow; love was deep, and she had settled for the lesser.

Truth rubbed like coarse salt at the raw spot alternately aching and soothing, cleansing the blackness and rousing small sparks of life to a soul that had been dead for too long. She wept.
God, please help me. Please forgive me.

Jaida slid the Bible from her lap and pushed it away. This was too much, too fast. She needed to get out of here, needed some air to clear her head. She slipped her shoes on and reached for the key card, stopping abruptly when she saw the yellowed Scotch tape curling up at the edges inside the back cover of the Bible.

What was this?
She wiped her eyes and dropped the key card on the table then picked up the Bible, curious at the envelope that was taped inside. She scraped a thumbnail over the edges of the peeling tape and pried it away from the lining. Inside was a handwritten letter. It was four pages long and addressed to her.

Before she’d read through the first page she was crying again. When her mother said the Bible held the truth, she wasn’t just referring to the Scriptures.

Carina was sniffing around as though she was on the scent of something big, and it was making Auggie nervous. What did she know?

 
Close on his heels, she followed him down the concrete steps of his second-story studio to where his Expedition was parked at the curb. He twisted the crick from his neck and opened the car door. He had to get to Jaida before she did.

“Have you heard anything, anything at all?” she asked. “I’m worried. Jaida stood me up last night, and she’s not answering her phone.”

He gave her a sharp look. “I heard you five minutes ago when you asked me the first time.”

“But you never answered me.”

He offered just enough to quiet her. “She’s fine,” he said. “Rough night, that’s all. She needed some time away.” 

She pressed her palms against the fender and leaned in. “You know where she is then.”

“I didn’t say that.”  

“But you do know don’t you?”

For the first time since she came to his door asking about Jaida, he really looked at her. She was dressed down. The typical dark, tailored power suit she grilled her victims in was replaced with designer jeans and an orange knit shirt, the sleeves cut out at the shoulders.

“Not working today?” he asked.

Her laugh was low. “I’m not thrown off that easy. Now, where is she?”

It wouldn’t serve either of them to engage her. Neither one would be satisfied with the results. He slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and started the engine. He half smiled at the look on Carina’s face; the shock, dismay, and then the fury, her eyes lit up like two fiery coals.

She pounded her fist on the hood, yelling curses at him, the sound filtered by the sealed windows, but he read her lips loud and clear. “Tell me where she is!”

She ran to her car parked two vehicles down from his. He pulled out onto the street and hit the accelerator hard.

                                          *

Jaida stood under the shade of the palm tree, her gaze fixed on the bronze marker at her feet. She finally got what she’d been fighting for, but with it came no triumph.

“I know her name. You left me her name.” Tears swelled in Jaida’s throat.
Sofia Carlisle was my mother.
She pressed her eyes closed long enough to stay the welling tears then opened them to look upon the name of Eva Victoria Payne, embossed in the burnished nameplate.

She had given her more than a name. The letter Eva left behind told the story of Jaida’s premature birth and her hasty
desertion. It was recorded in detail along with the particulars of Sofia’s death.

She explained the need for secrecy; that it was necessary for Jaida’s protection and that Sofia requested it. But in the end Eva wanted Jaida to know that her abandonment wasn’t an act of rejection. It was an act of mercy.

How had Eva kept silent all those years?

Jaida knelt in the grass. The ground was cool and damp through the knees of her jeans. It was green, well watered by the groundskeeper over the dry days of summer. She was through digging into the sordid past of strangers. That’s what they were. What they would always be.

The air was warm. The light breeze that ruffled through her hair filled her nostrils with the scent of earth and the fragrance of lilacs. She closed her eyes and thought of God, of Spencer, and of Eva. What she wouldn’t give to have back all that she’d taken for granted, all that she’d rejected. But some mistakes couldn’t be undone.

After offering a silent prayer, she rose and brushed the grass from her knees then struck out on the cobbled path toward the parking lot. Her phone rang, and she frowned at the number on the screen. His timing was epic.

“Hello,” she said, her feet carrying her swiftly toward the car parked at the front of the lot.

“Hello to you. You look lovely today. So much like your mother. Except for the hair. Hers was dark and curly.”

She was offended by his familiarity and angered by his flippancy. And how did he know what she looked like today? Jaida spun around, her eyes scanning the layout of the cemetery. Was he watching her? Her body shivered in the heat.

“What do you want?” She picked up the pace, fairly running to her car and then remembering how Sofia died, she stopped, slowly backing away, her heart pounding.

She looked around her and visually searched the vicinity. Where was he? Had he rigged her car too? Would she be trapped inside a molten furnace and burned beyond recognition with the turn of a key? There was no proof he was behind Sofia’s untimely death, but sometimes you didn’t need proof. You just knew.

“Have you considered my offer?” he asked.

“I know her name. Sofia Carlisle. She gave birth to me and then hid me from you.” That’s why she’d been hidden in the bushes. Not discarded as she once believed, but protected. Her own father would have ended her life before she drew her first breath, but Sofia fled, Gale’s men hunting her down like an animal.

“Looks like I’ve lost my leverage.”

“You never had any.”

“Be that as it may, I’m still out a substantial amount of money because of you, and I will collect.”

“Good luck on that.” She backed further away from the car until she was at a safe distance then pressed the starter on the remote. She ducked her head and shoulders, cringing, waiting for the worst. But there was no explosion. She lifted her face. Still skeptical, she watched the car idle, listened to the soft hum coming from under the hood.

She thought again of Sofia and spoke without thinking. “You killed her, didn’t you? You used a young girl, got her in trouble, and then disposed of the problem before the public could discover what kind of a man you really were.”

His anger pulsed through the airwaves. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” His question was rhetorical, his sarcasm belying his innocence.

“Yes, I think I do,” she said. Mother and child, her mother a minor, they were a threat to his budding political career. If he
couldn’t destroy the child, the mother would do. Take her out before she could talk, and no one would be the wiser.

The puzzle pieces were finally coming together, and she could see the picture more clearly. This was why he refused to reveal her name. It linked him to her, and ultimately to her death.

“I told you to leave the past alone.” The malice in his tone made her skin prickle. She got in her car and locked the doors.

“I’m still coming after you,” she said.

The smile in his voice was spine chilling. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

                                        *

Auggie let the phone ring a few more times then hung up. Jaida must be in the shower. Better be in the shower.

The lab called this morning with the results. The fingerprints on the glass belonged to Terrence Black. He also picked up a couple of the man’s prints from the light fixtures in her kitchen. The man was a two-bit thug who was likely on Gale’s payroll.

At the next red light, he dug the wallet from his back pocket and fished out the card Spencer Gordon gave him. He held it up to the sunlight, memorized the number, and dialed.

Jaida would probably go off on him for involving the man, but she wasn’t around to consult. Besides, he was her husband, and he had a right to know what was going on. He shook his head at that, still stunned by the new revelation. She hid her secrets well. Just like he did.

“Good morning, this is Seraph. You’ve reached the office of Mr. Spencer Gordon.” The woman’s words were concise and perfectly enunciated.