Evidence of Mercy (28 page)

The word “man” shook him, for he hadn't thought of himself as a man in a long time. “Not that I'd be of any use if anything happened,” he said. “I guess I could run over somebody in my wheelchair, but it's not like I can defend you.”

She smirked. “I don't know, Jake. You were pretty dangerous the other day. If you had something to throw—”

He took it as it was intended and chuckled softly.

“Besides, we don't need defending,” she said. “Her ex doesn't know where we are, and the guy who was after me is still in jail. Your presence will just lend a little stability.”

She didn't mean it, he thought. She was just saying that to make him feel needed, but he had to admit he appreciated it. She was giving him the option of keeping his dignity, his masculinity. She was offering him a home, temporary though it might be.

It was better than any other option he had.

She saw his reticence. “Come on, Jake. Say yes if for no other reason than to appease my conscience. It was my plane that crashed. Let me make it up to you as much as I can.”

Tears came to his eyes, and he struggled to hold them back. “You don't have to buy my forgiveness,” he whispered after a moment.

“That's not what I'm doing,” she said. “The truth is neither your feet nor your hair needs washing, so I can do this instead.”

“What?”

She smiled. “Never mind. Just say yes.”

He sighed. “You're going to regret it.”

“No,” she said with a smile. “I don't think I will.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

T
he sound of his heels echoed through the old, musty judicial building as Keith checked the sign on each door, looking for the county clerk's office. He was tired of waiting. He'd spent most of several days watching the parking lot at Lynda's law firm, but she hadn't been there yet. Then he'd tried to get her forwarding address by sending something to her old address with a note to the post office to return it with her new one. But the address they had returned was to a post office box. He had even tried staking out the post office, but he hadn't been able to be there all the time, and if she'd checked her box, he'd missed her.

But he wasn't stupid. He had resources, and he knew how to use them. And he was going to start with public records. It had been worth the drive to St. Petersburg where the county records were kept, and though he didn't know what he was looking for, he was sure he'd know when he found it. His goal for now was to find every public record that existed on Lynda or her family. Something there would have to give him a clue.

He found the office and went into the dimly lit room that looked as if it could use a good electrician to update the wiring. A young couple was there getting a marriage license. Smirking, he leaned on the counter and thought of telling the poor guy to save his fifteen bucks and run like the wind. But the kid was young—too young to be reasoned with, old enough to make mistakes that would ruin his life. Just like Keith had been when he and Paige had stood there, giggling like this couple and anticipating the life they were planning together.

But that was before he'd learned what a shrew she was.

Now, on the battleground of their marriage, his daughter had become the spoils. Didn't Paige realize what her obstinance was going to cost her? Didn't she understand that when he got through with her, she'd have nothing left? Least of all Brianna.

The couple blushed over their finished license, and Keith flashed them a saccharine, congratulatory smile then winked at the lady behind the desk. “Cute kids,” he said as they left the room.

“Yes, they are,” she said. “I hope everything works out for them.”

“I'm sure it will,” he said. “We've been married for ten years now, and we're as happy as the day we came in here to get our license.”

“Oh, that's nice.”

“Yes. Course, I realize that not everybody is as lucky as I am, but we work at it, you know? Teamwork. It's the only way.”

He could have sworn her eyes were twinkling as she smiled up at him. “That's so rare these days. Frankly, I worry about every couple that comes in here. I pray for them.”

“Good for you,” he said. “Good for you.”

She cleared off the papers she'd had them sign and stuck them in the appropriate bins. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I need to look up some public records.”

“All right,” she said, grabbing a form out of another bin. “Just fill this out, and I'll show you how to find them. What exactly are you looking for? A person or a property?”

“A person, but that might lead me to real estate.”

“That's fine. And what is the last name of the person you're looking for?”

He almost gave her Lynda's last name then realized that there had been too much publicity about the attempts on her life. “Barnett,” he said finally. “Frank Barnett.”

“All right,” she said, taking the form back and checking the fake signature. “Just follow me. We have A through J in this room.”

She took him to a huge room full of volumes of public records for Pinellas County and led him to a computer where she showed him how to find the name of the person he was looking for, see the list of documents the county had on that person, and determine what volume the record was in.

He thanked her profusely then waited as she left him alone.

The moment he typed in Lynda's name, two listings came up. Quickly he jotted down where to find her birth certificate and the documents pertaining to her property. There was no record of a marriage license or a divorce or any judgments against her or any other documents.

Leaving the computer, he found the book with her birth certificate and flipped through it until he found her name. There she was.

As if he'd found some crucial bit of information, he stared down at it with a smile and quickly jotted down both parents' names and her birthdate in case he ever needed it.

The documents on her house would be useless now; the house was burned, so she wouldn't be going back. He went back to the computer and typed in her mother's name.

A list of records emerged, and he jotted down the number of the book that had records on her property. He scanned the list again, looking for anything else he could use and saw her death certificate.

Dead end,
he thought, clearing the screen.

He punched in her father's name. Again, he jotted down the property book and came across another death certificate.

Frustrated, he sat back in the chair.

All right
, he told himself,
don't give up yet. There's got to be something here.

Looking down at his note paper, he noticed a connection. One of the numbers on the list of Lynda's properties matched the book number for the property on both of Lynda's parents. Had she inherited their home? If so, it surely wasn't the one that had burned down—that one had been far too new and expensive.

He flew to that book, pulled it out, and shuffled through the pages until he came to what he was looking for—A house on the other side of town, bought forty years ago; ownership had been transferred to Lynda three months ago upon the death of her father!

He banged his fist on the table then waved it over his head in exhilaration. This was it! It had to be. She was staying in her father's home, and he had found her! Paige and Brianna were probably there with her!

He slammed the book shut but didn't bother to put it back. Quickly, he went back to the computer, cleared the screen so no one would link him to her, and headed out without another word to the clerk.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

I
t had been months since the garage apartment had even been opened and years since it had been used for more than storage. With Paige's help, Lynda cleaned all of the junk out of it then set about scrubbing. A thick layer of dust had settled over every piece of furniture, and the bedspread and sheets and curtains all smelled musty. She gathered them all up to wash while Paige vacuumed the mattress and couch, the recliner, and the carpet, which really didn't look so bad considering how old it was.

“Does this Jake person know about me?” Paige asked in a slightly troubled voice as she worked.

“Yes. I told him last night.”

“Mmmm.” She coiled the cord on the vacuum cleaner then got her bucket from Brianna, who was sitting in the empty bathtub, “scrubbing it” with a dry brush. “So you say he's paralyzed? He can't walk?”

“No, he can't. What's the matter, Paige?”

Paige shrugged. “I don't know.” She started to say something, stopped then tried again.

“What is it, Paige? What's on your mind?”

Paige leaned back against a wall and looked down at her feet. “I was thinking. Maybe it's time we went on home.”

“Home? Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, Jake's coming, and you won't be alone any more.”

“But Paige, what about Keith?”

Paige thought that over for a moment. “He's probably cooled down by now. His rages don't usually last that long. He's probably feeling real bad about what he did, and when he gets like that—sorry and all—he can be okay. Maybe I don't have to be afraid of him.”

Lynda wanted to scream at her that she was being stupid, but if her time with Jake had taught her anything, it was that she had to learn diplomacy. “Paige, if you go back home and have any contact with him at all, it could ruin our case. And it could get you killed.”

When Paige covered her face with her hand, Lynda stepped closer. Removing Paige's hand and making the young woman look at her, she said, “Paige, what's really wrong?”

“I don't know. Maybe I'm just homesick. And with Jake coming—I don't know; I'm just not very comfortable around men.”

“But you weren't uncomfortable with Larry or Tony.”

“I didn't have to be
alone
with them much. Besides, I knew they were protecting me.”

“Well, think of Jake as protecting you, too. And you're not really going to be alone with him. I'll be here.”

“Yeah, but you'll be going back to work soon.” She caught herself and tried to rally. “I'm sorry. You're helping me, so you have every right to help him, too. It's awfully nice of you. I'm sure he needs help. I'll get over it.”

“But will you get over it here or at home?”

Paige met Lynda's eyes, and Lynda saw the struggle there. “You'd hate me if I went back home, wouldn't you?”

“No, Paige, but I think
you
would hate you.”

“But I'm not considering taking him back. Not at all. I just miss things being familiar.”

Lynda sat down and studied the carpet for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Paige, familiarity has a lot of power. That's why you went back to Keith all those times before. It probably had a lot to do with familiarity, didn't it?”

Paige nodded.

“And if you let familiarity cause you to put yourself in danger again, don't you think that when—not if, but when—Keith shows up, he'll be able to convince you one way or another to take him back for that same familiarity?”

“Maybe, but—”

“Paige, he might take Brianna this time and go so far that you'd never see her again. The court date isn't that far off. He's bound to be getting desperate.”

Paige's face changed, and she glanced into the bathroom at Brianna, who was singing the theme from “Barney.” When she looked back at Lynda, she whispered, “You're right. Absolutely.”

Lynda got up and faced Paige head on. “Paige, Jake's paralyzed. Why would you be worried about what he might do?”

“That's the crazy part. I know he won't hurt me if he's your friend, and I know he couldn't if he wanted to. But—men are so unpredictable to me. I never knew what to expect with Keith. Just when I thought I had all my bases covered, he'd show me that I didn't.”

“You have them covered now, Paige. Right?”

Her sigh suggested she wasn't sure. “Maybe being around Jake is what I need now. Maybe he'll restore my faith in men.”

Lynda wished she could say that was possible, but she wasn't so sure. “Well—he's a little scary-looking right now. He has a patch over his eye and a big scar down his cheek, and he's not the most pleasant person to be around because he's so angry about his injuries. But I've watched him change since I met him. In big ways. And he's going to keep changing. He'll have to if he's going to make it. But he'd never hurt you or Brianna. More likely, he'll keep absolutely to himself, and you won't see him at all except to take him meals.”

Paige regarded Brianna, still sitting in the empty bathtub. “I guess I should realize how lucky I am,” she said. “I have my legs, both eyes, and I have Brianna.” She smiled and turned back to Lynda. “And I have you. So does he. Because of that, I promise to make him feel welcome here.”

“Thank you, Paige. I knew I could count on you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

K
eith knew better than to drive down her street; it looked like a dead end. Instead, he parked his car a couple of blocks away in a small church parking lot and walked into the thick woods that lined one side of the street, except where it had been cleared for houses. There were only about three houses on the street, two right at the entrance and one secluded down at the dead end. He worked his way quietly through the woods, trying not to be seen.

There was someone outside at the first house he passed, a man working in the garden, so he assumed that wasn't the house. He crept forward until he had a clear view across the street and read the numbers on the opposite house. That wasn't it, either.

So it must be the one at the far end of the street. He stole through the trees and came up to the cyclone fence that defined the property. But there was no sign of any of them. He needed to get around front to see if he could identify one of their cars.