The Good Sister (19 page)

“Did she ever burn herself on her arm?”

Jessie jerked up with surprise. She was resting on the couch, which was now made up with sheets and a pillow. It was obvious she had been there awhile. Her hair was matted to her head, and she blinked in tired confusion at his presence. He literally barged through her front door.

Will came in from the kitchen, rushing in obvious worry. He stopped dead when he noticed Noah. “Noah? What the hell, man?”

Noah barely glanced at him, but put his hands on his hips and clung to Jessie’s gaze. “Did your sister ever burn her arm? Is there a scar on her arm that you know of?”

Jessie shook her head, obviously clearing out the cobwebs and trying to make sense of his presence. “Lindsey? Burn herself? No. Never. She has no scars that I have ever seen. What is this?”

He started pacing. He wanted to punch his fist through the wall. He stopped and took a deep breath when he caught Jessie’s eyes filling with trepidation. She hobbled around the couch closer to him. Will set down the spatula he was holding and came closer.

Noah fell onto the couch, and rubbed his hand over his face. “He hurts her. Elliot hurts her. At some point, he burned a scar on her arm. She didn’t leave here a snobby bitch, too good for this place and us, but a woman
denying her reality, lest anyone discover her awful secret.”

Jessie doubled over and Will rushed to her. He took her in his arms as Jessie was already convulsing in tears. There was no hesitation. No denial. No trying to reason with Noah that he was wrong. As Jessie well knew, there was plenty of violence in the world. There was also torture. And she knew Noah spoke the truth. He simply put the puzzle of her sister together, and in an instant, Jessie knew what she missed. Just as Lindsey missed Jessie’s abuse all those years ago.

Tears choked Jessie. Will led her to the couch and set her down carefully. He stroked her neck and back as he talked into her ear, trying to soothe her. She nodded and finally took in shuddering gasps of air until she calmed down enough to speak, the tears still streaming from her eyes. “How could I not know? How could I let her leave with him? How could I be so fucking stupid? Blind! I let him take her. I let her be taken. She was begging for me to notice and all I did was let my stupid, hurt feelings deny what was right there in front of me.”

Oh, for
God’s sake, Noah, this is everywhere. In every small or large town. You know women being beaten. You talk to them every day. You just don’t know it. Not usually. I just want to help this one woman.

He couldn’t stop her words from streaming over and over in his brain. Over and over, her voice and the pleading he saw in her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, so passionate about this one subject. And the disappointment in him was clear as she glared at him over Tessa. How could he miss what Lindsey was really saying? She wanted him to help her.

Will let Jessie go and he stood up. “He’ll be dead by tomorrow.” His voice was calm, quiet, and as smooth as a hot steak knife cutting through butter.

Jessie grabbed his hand. “No.
No.
Don’t be stupid, Will. You can’t do that.”

“I most sure as fuck can.”

Noah shook his head. “You’re not a soldier anymore, Will. You don’t get to put on your war pack and rappel in to save her. You do that and you’ll get brought up on murder charges and spend the rest of your life in prison, which would only ruin Jessie’s too.”

Will crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I’d get caught?”

“I think, you have a baby about to be born at any minute. Literally. Her due date is three days from now, Will. You can’t leave your wife.”

Will shut his eyes as Noah’s logical reason hit home. “I know. I just, I could kill the fucker. I could. Why didn’t she tell me? I asked her. I outright asked her about Elliot. I always hated the cold, slimy, rich, prick, son of a bitch. He rubbed me the wrong way the first time she had us over for dinner after he returned from his deployment. He wore a uniform, but with just one glance, and one word, I knew he was no soldier. He was nothing but a cold fuck. I didn’t know what his agenda was then, but I knew he definitely had one.”

“Perhaps for that very reason, she didn’t tell you,” Noah pointed out gently.

Jessie stared at her palms. “She didn’t think it would do any good. She thinks he’ll eventually find her at some point, no matter what she does or where she goes. He has complete control of her. We all saw it. The fucking cell phone? I mean who takes calls so desperately? And what did I do about that? I got annoyed at her for taking them. For being such a doormat. She couldn’t even tell him she worked for you! How could none of us see the flares she was firing from her sinking ship? She was here, away from him, and getting stronger every day. I saw the change in her as soon as he showed up. It was instantaneous. It was freakish. It was complete submission for her. Just as my father had over me. I was his, to do with as he wanted, and I believed no one could change that. Lindsey believes that too. And we all, every one of us, let her go without voicing one word or question. God, we should be shot! I’m her sister. I went through this shit! She saved me from the same shit, and I couldn’t recognize it in her?”

Will touched her palms, separating her hands without a word of rebuke. “We didn’t see it. It’s not all on you. It doesn’t matter. What matters now is what we do.”

“Do? Noah’s right. I can’t go. Look at me. But you can, Will. You have to go. Another day can’t pass while she’s there, completely at his mercy.”

“No. No, I’ll go. You can’t go through this alone, Jessie. You need Will here. He must stay here. But I can go and I am going.”

Jessie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Will slowly rose and stretched his hand out to Noah. “I would go under any other circumstances.”

Noah shook Will’s hand. It was almost like Will was passing Noah an imaginary torch of rescue. The thing was: Noah was not Will Hendricks. He had no illusions about that and knew he was completely ill-suited for the role of savior. He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’d go no matter what you were doing. I’ll let you know.”

He turned and left. He was finished debating. He was over feeling sorry for what they had not done. All that mattered is what he did now. Today. Forward. And first thing was to get the fuck to the airport.

Elliot opened the padlock hours later. It clicked down and the bi-fold door slid open. Light filled the closet and Lindsey blinked at the painful sensation to her eyeballs. He hunkered down on his haunches and reached his arms out. Gathering her up, he pulled her to his chest  and tenderly cradled her in his arms.

She lay there mute, numb, defenseless. It didn’t matter. She stared over his shoulder at the toilet as his hand touched her forehead and his finger gently prodded the lump. He sighed deeply and stood up. She soon felt the cool whisper of sheets against her skin. Breathing still hurt. Her head swam and her entire body was on fire.

“You need to go to the hospital.”

She didn’t react to his voice.

“We were robbed. I found you like this. Do you understand me, Lindsey?” His voice was soft and soothing. The cold edge was gone. It had a coaxing sweetness. Was he serious? He was actually taking her to the hospital? That was unprecedented. His eyes ran all over her face and body. It must have been bad this time. She’d never seen him looking so fearful before. He never before had to worry about her cover story.

“Do you understand? I need to know you understand before I call the police. Before I get you the help you need.”

Her eyes rolled up in her head and he gently shook her shoulders. “Lindsey? Please, understand.”

Please?
Elliot never, ever used please. This must be awfully important. She had better obey him. She nodded slowly, but her tongue felt like it was coated in molasses. She mumbled. “I understand.”

His face relaxed and he smiled. “That’s good, sweetheart. Good. You’ll feel better soon, you’ll see.”

Good. That was good. She pleased him. The fog in her head swallowed her up again.

“Is that better, dear?”

Lindsey smiled at the older, gray-haired nurse who adjusted the pillows under her head. She was short and barely overweight. She had a kind, gentle manner. “Yes. Thank you.”

The lady patted her hand. “You poor thing. What a fright you’ve given your poor husband. He hasn’t left that chair since yesterday.”

Elliot was now out in the hallway, discussing her care, no doubt, with the doctor. She turned her head away and stared out the window. She only turned back when she heard voices entering her room.

“Honey, this is Officer Collins. Can you speak to him?”

She glanced up at Elliot who had positioned himself near her head, and was gripping her hand. She let it lay limply in his. She nodded slowly after a long, warning look from Elliot.

“It looks like whoever did this to you got most of your jewelry, and some cash you had in your purse. I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

Really? Wow. Elliot took his covers pretty seriously. The numbness that had overtaken her body seemed to have extended into her brain. There was just… nothing left inside her. There was no passion. No anger.  No pain. No fear. No love. No hate. It was all she’d ever wanted. In the heat of every beating she took, this was all she longed for. And now? Now she’d finally gotten here. She didn’t care if Elliot lied or if he told the truth. It simply all ceased to matter to her anymore. She ceased to matter.

She could, however, say whatever needed to be said. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

The officer visibly swallowed as his gaze traveled over her. What did he see? A loving husband at the side of his beloved, but violated wife? A wife who finally had the visible bruises on her face, to match what she usually hid underneath her clothes? She had bruises everywhere. There wasn’t a place on her body he left alone. There wasn’t much in her soul that he hadn’t already crushed either. But then, she let him do it. She’d given herself over to him.

“Can you remember anything?”

The poor officer was young. Maybe in his mid-twenties. He was faced with Elliot Johanson, local hero and humanitarian, watching him interrogate his badly beaten up wife. The poor kid just wanted to do his job and itched to leave the room. He didn’t know where to put his eyes. He kept wincing whenever he met her gaze.

Yes, everything. I can remember my entire life until the moment my husband shoved me so hard into my bed, he knocked me out. I remember that.

Instead, she said, “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything. I was suddenly pushed into the door and everything went black.” She repeated what Elliot instructed her to say.

The officer diligently wrote in his notebook, glad for a diversion to keep from staring at her. She didn’t blame him. She must’ve looked pretty horrifying. Seeing her face in the mirror, she realized for once, it reflected the rest of her body. It was unheard of. It illustrated how out of control Elliot had become. He would hate that about himself and would blame her. He would see it as her fault for making him so mad.

“There was nothing before that? No sound? No strange noises? Perhaps a creak or footstep?”

“Nothing. I finished my morning workout and was going to take a shower. Elliot had left for the day already and I was alone.”

The officer nodded. “Yes, I noted that. I’m sorry, Ma’am. If you remember anything, at any time, no matter how small of a detail, please call me.”

“I will.”
Never.
She watched as Elliot quickly took the considerate, conscientious officer’s card.
As if.
He’d no doubt shred it and she’d never see it again. She turned her head and stared back out the window. It was raining. Hard.

THE MAN’S heart nearly stopped at the news.
Lindsey.
She was in the hospital with extensive injuries. Someone had broken into her house. He turned away from the computer screen. He didn’t think anything could touch his heart with so much intensity, but hearing that Lindsey was hurt did just that. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fine anymore. He had to know if she were really okay. How though? How could he ever get close to her?

He sprang out of the desk chair.
Fuck it
. He was going to find her. There was nothing else he could do.
The group
could do whatever they had to do to him. He had nothing left, but Lindsey. And his gut was screaming that she needed him. So if she ended up being the reason he would die finally, then so be it.

“So this is his problem.”

Lindsey focused her distant gaze on Cal Hopkins’ face who was standing before her bed. She was brought home yesterday and Elliot even hired a nurse to care for her. Cal stepped forward to sit in the chair the nurse set beside the nightstand with Lindsey’s water, pain pills and the nurse’s own pills. The Xanex allowed Lindsey to gently float away.

“What do you want?” she inquired warily.

“I knew Elliot was too perfect. Wealthy. Successful entrepreneur. Handsome. A beautiful wife. And to top it all off, the man became a war hero. It was almost as if he had me guiding and coaching him all these years. He’s quite brilliant at forming a noble reputation for himself. But there is always something else with these guys who need the adulation of public office and power. They are cheaters, or have a thing for hookers, or cross dress, or simply drink too much…  whatever it is, if you dig deep enough, you will find that they always have some kind of vice. And now I know what Elliot’s is. He’s a wife-beater.”

She met his cold, fish-like eyes, thinking he should have been a reptile, but remained silent.

He smiled slowly. “Good. I like that. You can keep quiet. I assumed as much, since there was no clue about this anywhere. I vetted everyone close to you two. Every friend, acquaintance, staff member, or temporary employee. I made sure they all had nothing but rave reviews and glowing reports concerning both of you. But we all know there is no such thing as perfect, don’t we? I couldn’t put my finger on what it was at first. You had this strange, Stepford wife trance going on. Now I get it. You’re good, Mrs. Johanson. Unusually good at hiding things. You must have screwed up big time to end up like this. He’s usually much more careful, isn’t he?”

She pressed her lips tightly together.

“It’s okay. I know. I don’t need your input. I trust, then, you will keep quiet. And this? Well, this is just how it is, right? And what he does? Are you going to be a problem for me?”

She stared into his eyes as goose bumps broke out all over her skin. Then, slowly but firmly, she shook her head. She was never a problem in the past and would continue to never be.

Cal stood up as he slid his hands into his pockets. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Heal up quickly, Mrs. Johanson, I’ll be needing that face to look pretty.”

Once Cal left and the door clicked shut, she grabbed the painkiller bottle of pills next to her head and downed two more.