Assassin Deception (7 page)

“How are you doing?” Chloe jumped, frightened, and shoved the book back into the box. She spun to face Damien, stumbling to her feet in her haste.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that! I’ve only just convinced myself there are no ghosts here and then you scare me half to death,” she snapped to cover up her turbulent emotions. She couldn’t help but feel she was betraying James by reading the book.

“Hey, sorry,” Damien replied, eyebrows raised. He held out his hands in supplication. “I only thought you might like a break. Maybe some lunch?”

Chloe rubbed a dusty hand across her tired eyes. Was it really that late already? Looking around at the strewn boxes, she realized she had been reminiscing for hours. No wonder she felt drained.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Salvator. It’s just that all of these memories are crashing over me. With every picture I remember. Some things are better left alone. I feel so worn out.”

Damien moved to embrace her. Chloe cuddled her head into his chest, eyes squeezed shut, now grateful for his presence. She trembled against him.

“I’m sorry this has been so hard on you, sweetheart. Can I help?”

Chloe sighed and disengaged herself from him. “No, I suppose it’s one of those necessary evils of life.”

“So is lunch,” Damien cajoled, and winked.

“All right, all right. I can take a hint. What was that your niece called you at dinner last night, your new nickname…glutton, wasn’t it?”

“Very funny. You stay away from Carrie. I can see she’s going to be a bad influence. If you don’t recall,
I
am wonderful!”

“Wonderfully hungry all the time. I remember when we were kids; you were always eating…everything. I used to hide my hair ribbons. I’m surprised your father has any furniture left.”

“Hey, I left him a few bookends and the dining room table. Besides, the hair ribbons were too chewy, and the white ones had no flavor at all.”

“Are we headed back to the house or will you spring for lunch? Remember, I’m unemployed now, no cash flow,” Chloe said, looking at him dryly. He still had the same old humor.

“Liar! I know very well Dad adds to an account regularly that he has set up for you. You are so spoiled.”

Chloe smiled up at him sweetly. “I guess I’ll just have to add James to the new list of men I’m going to marry, since he takes care of me so well.”

“Oh, no you don’t! I’m finally at the head of the line for once,” Damien said, chuckling. He then grew serious. “Listen, babe, we need to do lunch at the house. Dirk wants you close until he can figure out what’s what. You know he’s like a big, ugly dog with a bone when something doesn’t add up.”

“In other words I’m his prisoner until he’s satisfied no one will eat me,” Chloe grumbled, annoyed. She wasn’t a child, after all. She had gotten by without contacting them for six whole months.

“Not necessarily. We do have a
Wolf
at our house,” Damien said cheekily. He snapped his teeth together, then growled at her.

Chloe punched him in the gut. Damien groaned and laughed heartily, then pulled her into his arms, snuggling her. “Humor me, please? Just until Dirk’s satisfied it was a one time deal, please, please,
please.
”

“Fine,” Chloe said on an expelled breath, annoyed, though somewhat mollified. “But can I make tacos? Your dad’s idea of lunch and mine differ substantially.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Damien replied on an air of excitement, rubbing his hands together. “I love your cooking. Pheasant under glass is fine once in a while…but tacos are decidedly better!”

* * * *

Chloe had been staring at the cover of the black book for over an hour while in her room. She paced back and forth, agitated, across her spacious bedroom. The hour had grown late and she had retired for the night. Dirk was still away and Chloe had grumbled once more at not being allowed to wander the town. She was, after all, a grown woman. She wished Dirk would hurry up. Sighing, she realized Damien was right. Dirk wouldn’t be satisfied until every stone had been overturned and examined beyond critically.

Finally, and with some misgiving, Chloe picked up the black book and settled into bed with it. She gathered the covers around her, huddling under for the protection they seemed to give. She pulled a velvety, old floppy-eared dog under her arm, a long ago birthday gift from Dirk. Taking a deep breath, she opened the book and began to read.

January, what a roller coaster of a month. Five hits already. Every mark worse than the last. Some so damned young. Iron Hand is merciless. He nags about my drinking, but man oh man, with what I’ve seen and done, he’s lucky I’m not in the nuthouse.

That last chick was a real shame, pretty little thing too. I hated to see her cry. She was so scared and helpless, begging me not to hurt her, but hell, he wanted her done. I felt for her and did her quick after shooting her up so she would be asleep and not feel anything. I wonder if she told him no and he got pissed. Oh well, it pays the bills and I ain’t the kinda person stupid enough to ask dangerous questions.

Chloe bowed her head into her hands
.
Her father had murdered women
.
What was next,
cripples,
children, babies?
She knew she should throw
the book out. Give it to Dirk or Damien, flush it down the toilet, burn it. Why was she tormenting herself with it?

Suddenly she had a terrible insight. She wondered if her mother had read it. Thinking hard, she had a vague recollection of the book being held in shaky, slender hands. Her mother had read it. No wonder she went crazy. Chloe was ready to bolt from her fear of him, even though he was dead. James had been right; knowing what they did was not a preparation for
knowing
what they did.

Chloe took a deep breath in and exhaled it. She rationally collected her thoughts.
James took evil lives, not innocents. Either the story was a complete fabrication or the woman must have done something horrible. Whether she cried or not didn't matter. Of course she would cry, beg for her life, evil or not, right? Maybe if she read more she could discover her crime. She flipped a few pages ahead.

My wife is livid. Chloe is playing with James’ son, Damien, she seems smitten with the boy. The two are inseparable. The girl spends way too much time at the big house. My wife knows I’m afraid for the little darlin’. But
what do I do? The only way to protect her is to play dumb. Like I don’t know what James is thinking. I wish he would let me walk, this whole set up stinks.

My poor little girl. She’s too young to understand the terrible danger she’s in. Maybe if I hurt her a bit. Get her sent to a hospital. I’ll be able to say she died and then bundle her up and get her the hell away from this madness.

James never lets my wife into a hospital, no matter how bad I beat her hoping to save
her. I’m afraid to hurt her worse, break a bone or two, even though she begs me to. I tell her he won’t ever let her go to the hospital, too many questions. Maybe he’ll have more pity for the girl, he seems to like her. I hate to do it, I love her so much, but it’s worth a try…

Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. No! It couldn’t be. A man wouldn’t beat his child to protect her…
would he?
Chloe’s thoughts became frantic. Her tears fell in a steady stream in her outraged anger.

She remembered the last time her father beat her, how horrible it was, the excruciating agony. Granny stopping him. Samantha had taken care of her and brought a doctor to the house. Chloe loved James.

Her mother went insane; it was all her father’s fault. He was manipulating Chloe from the grave, just like her mother had been manipulated. This was all wrong! He must have planted this book of deceptions for her mother to find and now Chloe had found it. Her mother must have hidden it in her desperation. Her irrational mind would have been terrified for James to find the book. No doubt she would have thought there would be horrible consequences.

Chloe shoved a fist to her mouth to stop the terrible sobbing. Her poor mother. To have been treated so inhumanly by her own husband, a man she had trusted. He had betrayed her. Having the life of her daughter hung over her head so evilly and for so long. How could he?

Why would he?

She gave her head a shake. How could she be the child of such a monster? The thought sickened her. She must give the book to James tomorrow. He would be so angry with her father, again.

Now he would understand why her mother had been so terrified, why she went crazy. If she had been reading it like a bible, hanging onto her father’s memory, of course she would have succumbed to the terror of her thoughts. The poor woman, to be trapped forever with lies. How awful for her, for Chloe. Thank heaven she was finally at peace.

With that line of reasoning, Chloe calmed. She had a better understanding of her mother’s fears. She didn’t feel as abandoned by her. She really had loved Chloe and felt she was protecting her, even though her thoughts had been manipulated and misguided.

Chloe felt sorry for her. She felt saddened for all of the time she had spent so angry with her for trying to keep her away from James and the others. She wondered if James was right; perhaps her mother would have done something to her in an attempt to ‘save’ her. She needed to speak to James. James would take care of it, like Dirk had said so long ago after her father had died; James would take care of everything.

* * * *

Chloe looked around the empty house. There hadn’t been much in there belonging to them
.
Everything they owned had come from James. When she had awoken that morning James and the other men had been gone on business, she had been informed. Candy told her they had gone to meet Dirk.

Chloe had tucked the book into her back pocket and walked the long driveway to her old home, wanting the fresh air to clear her head. She refused to read more filthy lies. She was too smart for her father to manipulate; she had grown up with these men. Never once had they harmed her like he had. James loved her, as did Dirk and Damien. She was safe with them. She hoped her father was rotting in hell.

With a small sigh, Chloe picked up her last box, intending to head home…her true home. She would give the book to James. He would hold her and declare it all horrible lies. He would confirm what she knew to be the truth. She would then ask him to drive her to her mother’s grave. She would ask James if they could stop for carnations, her mother’s favorite flower.

The least she could do was say she was sorry, she had never realized how manipulative her father had been. She would stay with James now without the threat of her mother’s insanity hanging over her and finally be able to get on with her life.
It was like a black cloud had lifted from her spirit.

Chloe walked from the house, smiling. It would be nice to hear what James would say about the book. He would take her into his arms, comfort her. He would tell her about how he always took care of her, loved her, protected her. He kept her safe; she was wanted, one of his own, she belonged. There would be no reason for him to want to kill a child back then, no matter what she had overheard. He knew she would never talk. She was family.

Her mother should have listened to James. Maybe then
she wouldn’t have gone crazy. Perhaps she would still be alive and not wanting to overdose when the nurse fell asleep
.
Perhaps they would have had a better relationship.
Chloe determined again it was all her father’s fault; he had killed her mother
from his grave.

Chloe closed the door behind her with a feeling of finality. Her past now in the past, her future ahead. She walked down the cement walkway, humming. She noted all the cracks had been fixed in anticipation of the new occupants.

James was so efficient. Her and Damien’s names, which had been written in the cement years ago, were gone. She stepped onto the paved driveway and stopped halfway down to look back at the tiny yellow house with blue shuttered windows. The landscaping was, as always, meticulous.

She wondered if she would miss the willow tree. Perhaps she could visit it; her doll was safely sequestered within the box she held. Everything about the house held bittersweet memories. The house that had known her first steps, her first smile, her first tears, her parents. She supposed she should miss it, but she knew she wouldn’t.