Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (30 page)

The captain forced himself to extinguish his anger as they sat silently, waiting.

“Yes, sir,” Officer Floyd said, poking his head in the doorway.

“My mother said smoking is bad for you,” Bethany told Captain Dougherty.

“She’s right,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll be right back.”

The captain escorted Floyd outside the room while Tuttle stepped back inside to stay with Bethany. Dougherty held his hand on the outside doorknob, supporting his weight. “Do you know whose daughter this is?” he whispered sharply.

“Yes, sir. Carson O’Connor’s.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “Why in hell am I the last to know?”

“I was going to tell you just as soon as you were finished questioning the girl. Uh, Mr. O’Connor has been notified and is on his way here.”

Dougherty glanced crosswise and saw an employee pointing a man in his direction. “Looks like he’s already here.”

“Captain! Captain!” Carson yelled across the room, rushing toward him.

“Mr. O’Connor,” the captain said, walking up to him with an outstretched hand. He could see a woman behind O’Connor was almost running to keep up with him. “Nice to meet you, sir. Your dau—”

“Where’s my little girl? Is she all right?” Carson sounded anxious and breathless. “Her aunt called and said she didn’t show up for the after-school program with her brother.”

“Your daughter’s doing well. You have a brave, intelligent little lady.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, but his eyes searched the room anxiously.

The captain offered his hand to the woman. “Captain Dougherty,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, clasping his fingers with her small hand. “Natalie Harper.”

“Where’s Bethany?” Carson interrupted. “Where’s my little girl?”

“She’s right in here,” Captain Dougherty said, opening the door.

Carson practically knocked him over as he rushed toward his daughter.

“Daddy!” Bethany jumped eagerly from behind the table, knocking the chair over.

Before she could reach him, he was already there, scooping her into his arms.

He shut his eyes tightly and rocked her in his grip. “Lord, thank you for keeping your protection around my little girl,” he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes. He hugged her even tighter and sprinkled her cheeks with kisses.

Chapter 42

Deanna knew Carson would be frantic
. He’d ask her a million questions about his daughter. She would stick to her story—she had no idea of Bethany’s whereabouts.

Even so, she was having regrets.
I shouldn’t have done it
, she kept thinking. She’d let her imagination fill her with false hopes. She felt trapped, claustrophobic, barely able to control an impulse to leap from her bedroom window and run. Just run.

Certain Carson would find out she had something to do with Bethany’s death, she collapsed onto her bed and covered her eyes firmly with her hands. “Daddy,” she said to Norman as if he were sitting beside her. “Ohh, I miss you so much,” she moaned.”

She heard strange voices and shot straight up. Looking out her window, she saw two police cars parked outside and shadows moving toward the house. Then she saw her mother and Carson stepping out of his car walking up to join them. She’d be an idiot to feel comfortable doing what was in her thoughts—suicide. She’d rather nail her ear to the wall. She shook herself out of hysteria. No point in running away. Just her luck—she’d only get caught. But successful killers succeeded through luck or trickery. She couldn’t see why that wouldn’t apply to her as well.

She folded several bills into her pocket and ran to the bathroom at the back of the house. Its window opened on the fenced backyard. Thank goodness she’d lost a total of thirty-one pounds and was able to keep it off, but could she fit through the small window? For a few seconds, it seemed iffy, but she made it. She held onto the windowsill with her hands and groped for a footing in the trellis. To her astonishment, it held her weight.

Never having climbed down a trellis full of ivy before, she was surprised what a strong grip the vines had on the wall. It was easier than she’d assumed it would be. Most ways to get into trouble are.

Maybe if she turned herself in, she wouldn’t have to go to women’s prison. Maybe they would just let her go to juvenile hall until she became an adult, and then she could start her life over again. By that time, Carson would’ve forgiven her. Or she could tell them it was an accident. A horrible mistake. But it was too late to turn herself in.

Once the police discovered she was no longer in the house, they’d be looking for her soon. If they nailed her for this crime, she’d probably be executed. She didn’t want to die. She wished she could turn back the hands of time and undo everything.

Her chest ached. Her head pounded. She was in more trouble than her mother could get her out of. This was a nightmare, the worst thing that had happened to her since she was eight years old.

She managed to get several blocks away from home without being seen, but she had no idea what to do or where to go.

A voice came from out of nowhere, “Do you need some help?”

She turned to find a cop motioning her toward his car.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. Uh, my mom and I had an argument.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“Um, she doesn’t like my boyfriend, uh, my new friend.”

“And why is that?”

“Uh, because he and, uh, his brother, uh, cousin, are in a gang.”

He looked at her with skepticism. “Can’t say that I blame your mother. Being in a gang is a dangerous thing. It could get you in a lot of trouble hanging out with a crowd like that.”

She didn’t respond.

“It’s late, and I’m afraid you might be bothered if you remain out here.” His smile was friendly, but his tone wasn’t. He shone a flashlight in her face. “Come on and let me take you home.”

The jig was up, but Deanna didn’t move.

“What’s your name?”

“I already told you,” she stated tartly. She really hadn’t. She was just being uncooperative.

“Tell me again!”

“Don’t yell at me,” she snarled. “Deanna.”

“Deanna what? Last name?”

“Lomax,” she said, sighing.

“It’s past curfew. What are you doing out here?”

“I told you that, too,” she said crossly.

He looked up at her with dark, hooded eyes and said in a steely voice that allowed no argument, “Tell me again.”

She tried to keep her story straight
.

He opened the back door of the police car. “Come on. Get in.”

Deanna had no choice but to obey.

When they arrived at the house, he accompanied her inside like a chaperone. The other police vehicle was no longer there.

Cindy jumped up when she entered. Carson sighed with relief, straightening in his chair.

“You’ve found her,” Cindy stated. “Thank God you’re okay.” She raced over to Deanna and hugged her tightly. Deanna’s arms dangled down her sides. “I was so worried about you,” she whispered before pulling away. Her gaze shifted to the policeman. “Thank you so much, officer.”

“I figured she couldn’t’ve gone too far.” The officer stood warily. “Do you always climb from the vines beneath the bathroom window?” he turned to Deanna for an answer.

“It’s none of your business,” she retorted.

The way the officer looked at Cindy and Carson, he didn’t say it but Deanna knew he was hoping one of them would smack her across the lips.

“Please cooperate with the officer, sweetheart,” Cindy pled.

“Of course, it’s my business,” the officer said. “If you leave through a back window and you’re gone for hours without so much as a note, of course, your parents will call the police and, of course, I’ll return you home.”

Deanna folded her arms across her chest. “How do you know I went out a back window?” she said sassily, rubbing the side of her nose. “How do you know I didn’t walk out the front door?”

Menacingly, he came nearer until he was standing so close that his clothing touched hers. “The opened window and some of the vines were snapped.”

She held his blue-eyed stare for as long as she could stand it and then backed up a few steps. “Well, I’m sorry if I caused anyone to worry,” she lied. “But as you can see, I didn’t get into any trouble.”

“I’ve been asked to ensure that everything goes smoothly for you,” the officer said.

“What do you mean, ‘goes smoothly’? So, I missed curfew. Is that such a horrible crime?” She looked at Carson, who looked almost ill.

“Are you okay, Mr. O’Connor?” the officer asked.

Carson spoke for the first time. “I’m just having a little trouble digesting all that’s happened,” he said.

“You look exhausted,” Cindy said to Carson. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest, I’ll finish up here.”

From the look of her mother, Deanna thought she needed some rest of her own.

“Actually, I’d rather not,” Carson said. “I think I’d like to go back to what I was doing before this whole nightmare occurred.” His anger was obvious.

Cindy looked unsure as to what Carson was getting at, but she said nothing.

Carson stole a glimpse of Deanna and sighed.

Deanna fidgeted, scared to death of what he now thought of her.

“What happened, Deanna?” Carson asked finally, his momentary view now a hard stare.

“I don’t know,” she fretted.

“I think you do know.”

“Do you really want to go there?” She was more than a little annoyed. “You don’t know anything about me!”

Carson nodded, and she could sense his anger beginning to build. “You’re right, I don’t know you like I thought.”

She regretted her words, but it was too late to call them back. He’d been so good to her and Cindy, and he didn’t deserve her rudeness and ingratitude. She wanted to embrace him, but she was too ashamed for what she’d done. “Bethany?” she managed to say.

“Bethany is safe and sound, and I’m thankful you’re all right too,” Carson said, sounding calmer and less anxious. He got up and hugged her. “I just want to make sure you know that I love you very much, in spite of everything.”

Tears welled in Deanna’s eyes—she was reminded just how important his love was to her. She felt as if a brick wall had been lifted off her just knowing Bethany wasn’t dead.

“This whole thing is so unbelievable,” Cindy said, a real tear sliding down her face. “I feel like we’re caught up in suspended animation.”

The officer was ready to move along. “All right, young lady. I’m going to take you to the station so we can have a conversation.”

Deanna remained silent, holding Carson tightly around his waist as if her life depended on it. The officer lightly touched her elbow, ushering her to the door. She turned to look at Carson’s face one last time. “If Bethany is okay, why do I have to go to jail?”

A gloomy feeling surrounded the silent atmosphere.

Carson’s shoulders drooped. “Deanna, for your own good, don’t say another word. I’ll make sure you have the best representation possible.”

Deanna, consumed by guilt, looked away from her mother but she could hear her weeping.

“It’ll be okay, Cindy,” Carson said, his voice thick with tears. “I’m not pressing charges—the State is.”

Deanna turned in time to see Cindy run out the room. “Then why? Why do I still have to leave?” she asked Carson.

“It’s out of my hands now,” he answered sadly.

“I won’t handcuff her if she cooperates,” the officer said to Carson. “And tomorrow, she’ll be transferred to the Youth Detention Center.”

“Thanks for finding her.” Carson shook his hand. “We’ll be by the YDC in the morning.

“Let’s get in the car,” the officer said to Deanna as he walked side-by-side with her out the door.

* * *

Somewhere behind her tears, Cindy’s thoughts traveled backward again to Deanna’s happy, eventful childhood. She and Norman had taken the little girl with them practically everywhere they went. She’d been a laughing, hungry baby who slept when she was supposed to and was content to play silently in her crib in the mornings until Cindy or Norman awakened. All so easy. Years doing ordinary things, taking pleasure in the simplest outings: visiting the zoo, a picnic in the park, an early dinner at their favorite restaurant, a drive in the country. They’d even obtained passports to take a trip to Europe. Easy. Too easy. How wonderful it had been back then.

Deanna had been about CJ’s age when they learned Norman was dying. At first, they'd been reluctant to accept the diagnosis, to accept the certainty of his death. They spent their final months together doing those things they most enjoyed—especially the drives in the country. And it had been a good life, except in the last few weeks.

Both Cindy and Deanna mourned his death, his absence from their lives. Cindy suffered nightmares for years afterward, nightmares essentially revolving around the last weeks when he’d begun turning into a skeleton, when the air around him had become putrid, when he’d begun asking to die rather than prolong the suffering.

Receiving the insurance money, his pension, and the Social Security benefits was anything but easy. It seemed as if, in some ghastly way, she was being paid for Norman’s death. But she needed the money to live and to support their daughter. After the birth of Deanna, she had been a housewife with no job outside the home. And Norman had taken particular care with his estate, converting his whole life policies into higher-value term policies to provide a large lump sum of money in the unlikely event of his early death—money she’d gone through like running water. Although she’d managed to save a little from the proceeds of selling the house.

Several months after the funeral, when Deanna had gone to live fulltime with Cindy’s mother, Byron, an old college chum and ex-roommate of Norman’s had come to town and invited Cindy out to dinner. As they sat in the living room talking, Byron had laid his hand on her thigh to emphasize some point he was making. She’d responded to his touch as violently as she would have to an electrical shock. At that moment, she understood that she hadn’t died with Norman after all.

After several seconds of mutually stunned silence, they were in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. Byron had demonstrated commendable kindness and understanding. He’d met her sudden shameful need with just the right amount of unrestraint, carrying her upstairs to bed instead of taking her out to dine.

They’d said good-bye the next morning and had never seen each other again. After that, Cindy had set out to find a replica of Norman, not caring how much pain some other woman might have to suffer in the process. Throughout the years, she and Byron’s wife continued to exchange Christmas cards.

Cindy floated into semi-consciousness. She sat up in the middle of the bed, her arms hugging her knees, rocking back and forth.
Deanna, I‘m so sorry I failed you
. Tears drifted down her cheeks.
I tried, but I failed. Norman, please forgive me. I promised you our little girl would—

Two quick knocks on the door interrupted her thoughts.

Carson charged in without waiting for her invitation. His face was grim and covered with drops of sweat. “Gone,” he managed to say.