Deceit: A Novel Part 23

FEBRUARY 2010.

"Who are you calling?" Suspicion sharpened Melissa's voice. I'd already punched in the number, my stomach trembling. If this didn't work, I had no back-up plan.

"My brother."

Rain began to fall. A few drops, then steady. Perry switched on the wipers. We were on El Camino, a major street in San Jose.

"He doesn't live in Vonita, does he?" Melissa pressed. "I'm not setting foot in Vonita!"

"If I'd wanted to take you to Vonita, we'd go to Perry's." The line began to ring in my ear. "He lives in Hollister."

Perry gave me another sideways glance but said nothing. Hollister was the San Benito County seat. We'd need to head south, then veer east.

Second ring. I checked the car's digital clock. Nine-forty. On a Sunday night. Dan would certainly wonder when he saw my caller ID.

The third ring cut off in the middle. "h.e.l.lo, Joanne?"

Dan's reedy voice vibrated in my ear. I clicked down the volume. "Yeah, Dan, it's me. Sorry to call you so late, but I need to come over."

"Right now?"

Dan stood six-two, a wiry man in his mid-fifties. Divorced, kids grown. A no-nonsense kind of guy. His unlikely combination of dark hair and intense blue eyes commanded attention. That piercing gaze could bore right through a person when he wanted to make a point. Which was often.

"I have to see you now. I've...run into some trouble. Got shot at. It's not safe for me to go home."

"Shot at! By some skip?"

"Look, could I just come and talk? I'll tell you about it."

"Want police here?"

"No. No police."

Melissa made a gasping sound. "No!"

"All right," Dan said. "You coming from Vonita?"

"Mountain View, so it'll be a little while. And, Dan, when we get there-"

"We?"

I winced. Hadn't meant to let that slip just yet. "I've got two people with me. I'll call you when we're on your street. Can you watch for us and let us in quickly?"

"Joanne, if you think you're still in danger, I'll call the police. They'll intercept you wherever you are and escort you here."

"No. Please. Just trust me on this one. Okay?"

He hesitated. "All right. But once you get here, I call the shots."

That was Dan-always gaining control. A fighter by birth. If Melissa thought Perry had been short-tempered with her, wait till she got in Dan's face. "Fine by me."

The rain became a downpour as I hung up.

Perry turned on 87 South toward Gilroy, where we'd catch 101 and then Highway 25 into Hollister. The drive was close to fifty miles. In the rain-over an hour.

"Tell me, Joanne." Melissa tapped me on the shoulder. "Tell me how to disappear."

"Let's wait till we get to Dan's house."

"Just tell me about getting a new ID. You know people who can get me one?"

A faint smile crossed Perry's lips.

"Buying a fake ID is what you don't want to do," I told her. "How do you know whose life you're buying? She could have warrants out on her, unpaid parking tickets, creditors after her. Something, anything that would cause authorities to come looking for you. That's exactly what you don't need."

"So what do I do?"

My eyes closed. I leaned back against the headrest. "You keep your own ID. And learn how not to leave a trail."

One thing I remembered about Melissa-when she needed to learn something for her own advantage, she learned it. Linda had bragged how quickly she picked up the necessary skills for working in Baxter's office.

"Is it complicated?" Melissa's tone had returned to one of reined-in excitement, as if she relished the challenge.

"Yes. You'll have to keep at it. One slip-and someone like me can catch you."

"I want to know!"

"We'll talk when we get to Dan's."

"Tell me now."

"When we get to Dan's."

She argued. I wouldn't budge. After a time she muttered a curse and fell silent. Wonderful Perry said nothing. I wished I could talk to him, tell him how grateful I was. Later. When this was all over.

My eyes remained closed. I drifted, the drum of raindrops fading. A blanket settled over my brain, warm and smothering...

The next thing I knew Perry was pushing my shoulder. "Joanne.".

"Hmm?" My mouth moved before my mind engaged. I opened my eyes, blinked a few times. The rain had stopped. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah. We're just outside Hollister. Where do I go?"

"Oh. Okay." I sat up straight and stretched my neck one way, then the other. Tried to shake loose the fog in my head. Not a sound from the backseat. I twisted around. Melissa sat with arms folded. Her eyes met mine, then cut away. The meaning was clear. I'd told her she had to wait for what she wanted, made her subservient. To Melissa, an unpardonable sin.

I pictured the upcoming scene at Dan's house, and a chill trickled down my spine.

My focus turned to the road. "Turn right at the next stoplight, Perry." I fished my phone from my purse and called Dan. "We're here. See you in about three minutes."

"I'll be watching."

Melissa's clothes rustled. "I don't see why we had to come all the way down here."

"You see anybody following us?" Perry shot her a look in the rearview mirror.

"No."

"Worked, didn't it?"

"There's the street-Maxley Lane." I pointed. "Turn left. It's the third house down on the right."

We pulled up to Dan's place, a white stucco rancher with black shutters. Stark-colored and neat, like its owner. I'd last been here on a weekend to pick up some last-minute papers on a skip.

"Okay, Melissa." I grabbed my purse. "Let's go."

"About time."

I breathed a prayer.

The door of the house opened as we piled out of the car. Dan stood silhouetted in his entryway, one hand low on his hip. We scurried up the short sidewalk, tense to be out in the open, even though no one could have followed us. Our host stepped back, ushering us in with a wave of his arm, as if hurrying along errant children. We stopped in the hallway. Dan closed and locked the door.

"Joanne." He nodded at me. He was wearing jeans and loafers, a tucked-in long-sleeve shirt. His gaze moved to my companions.

"This is Melissa." I touched her arm, feeling her stiffness. She muttered a h.e.l.lo, both hands clasping her purse in front of her. "And Perry." The two men shook hands.

Melissa's eyes darted from Dan to me, making comparisons. Clearly, we didn't look a thing alike.

"Let's go sit down." Dan gestured toward his living room.

We followed him in. Dan and Perry settled in matching armchairs, Melissa and I on opposite ends of a couch, facing them. I made sure she took the side further into the room. We placed our purses on the floor. She cast me a look that read this better not take long. Her own agenda to glean from me all she could played out in the impatient shake of her right leg, her fidgeting fingers. Perry sat with back straight, large hands spread on his thighs. Alertness and keen curiosity shone in his eyes. He surveyed Melissa and her handbag, directly across from him, then focused on me.

A trickle of sweat itched the nape of my neck. Here we go. I didn't know enough about the law to grasp exactly how my scheme would play out. But one thing I did know. Melissa was packing a gun that wasn't registered in her name, not to mention that she didn't even have a permit to carry it.

My dry throat swallowed. I desperately wanted Jelly Bellies. Wild Blackberry and Pina Colada.

"Dan." I licked my lips and plunged in. "Melissa's last name is Harkoff. She was a foster child in the home of Baxter and Linda Jackson when Linda disappeared. You remember that case."

"Of course. Unsolved murder."

Melissa swiveled toward me. "What're you-"

"Melissa can solve it. She saw Baxter kill Linda. She knows where the body is buried." I turned to Melissa. Her jaw was set and hard, her eyes boring into mine. "Melissa, this is Dan Marlahn. District attorney of San Benito County."

Before Melissa could move, Perry shoved from his chair and s.n.a.t.c.hed the gun-toting purse away from her feet.

FORTY-THREE.

AUGUST 2004.

The Jackson house of cards wasn't going to fall. It was about to explode.

By the third week of August Melissa could barely sleep. Nightmares of her dead mother had returned with fury. And every minute of the day felt electrified. She and Baxter had so little time to be alone. Linda had attended two more church volunteer meetings at night-that was it. The rest of the time Baxter and Melissa were near each other, yet so far. Their presence in the same room became a live wire, her nerves thrumming with his every move. She knew he felt it too, maybe even more. In the office there was no privacy because of the large window looking out to the hall. When Melissa and Baxter were at home with Linda the sparks between the two of them popped wildly. One wrong move, one l.u.s.tful look intercepted by Linda would be gasoline on embers.

Melissa quickly learned how to handle Baxter-the poster man for duplicity. She knew he admired her stubborn determination and strength, even as he needed to control the women in his life. Each day in the office she a.s.serted herself a little more. Hadn't she earned that right? It was all a balance. The more self-a.s.sured and poised she acted, the more he wanted her. The more he wanted her, the stronger she became.

Slow business didn't help the situation any. Sales were down for the second month in a row. Some big house would nearly sell, then the deal would fall through. After losing five sales in a row Baxter accused G.o.d of cursing him.

"Oh, come on, Baxter, things will pick up again." Melissa's fingers poised over her computer keyboard. "That's what you always say."

He snorted. "They'd better pick up fast. Linda's going to break me."

"We're not shopping anymore. I told her I have enough clothes."

He swung around in his chair and surveyed Melissa under lowered brows. "Newsflash-she's not waiting for you. What do you think she does all day?"

Melissa's jaw loosened. "Why don't you tell her to stop?"

"Because it keeps her busy and her mouth shut." He shrugged. "Besides, she...needs it. Makes her feel better."

Ah, the guilt again.

"Yeah, well, you need less bills."

"The money will come, Melissa. Sales will pick up, like you said."

How fast he changed his tune.

"But you're right." His expression twisted into a half tease. "I'd be better off financially without her." His voice dropped into a mumble. "Not to mention her life insurance."

"What?" Melissa eyed him with indignant surprise. "What'd you say?"

He waved a hand in the air. "Nothing. Just a bad joke." He rotated toward his desk, ending the conversation. Melissa surveyed his back for a long moment before returning to her work.

Every day-the tension and desire. The tightrope walk. Baxter's inner demons.

In church on Sundays Melissa sat next to Linda (she didn't dare sit next to Baxter) and listened to the sermons about living a Christian life in the twenty-first century. Linda would nod and Baxter mutter his amens. Talk about a disconnect. Those hours in church formed Melissa's most confusing moments. Pastor Steve's words pierced her soul more than once. He spoke of Jesus' love, his forgiveness, his burning desire to set each person free of the past, no matter how bad it might be. There were times when Melissa yearned for that cleansing with aching intensity. The pastor's promises of wholeness, of a new and stunning purpose that no circ.u.mstances could take away shone upon the wreckage of Melissa's life like a beacon in roiling dark waters. But every time, the Jacksons' secrets would roll over her and drown the ache inside. They amened and nodded at the pastor's every point. They projected everything the pastor talked about.