Forced Out (19 page)

He burst into the car, grabbed the young woman by one shoulder and pulled hard, the sleeves of his shirt catching fire as he reached across the steering column. But she was wedged too tightly between the windshield and the dashboard. He couldn't pry her loose. He could see her lower legs burning, and he pulled madly at the wrist stuck in the mangled steering wheel, hoping she might be able to help him if he could free it. But it was no use.

Then she stopped screaming, even as the fire burned her jeans off her lower legs, exposing her dripping flesh. She was just gazing at him forlornly now with those desperate eyes. God, he felt like his body was about to explode, he was so hot. How could she not be screaming, how could she not be struggling violently, doing anything to save herself? Shock must have set in. He mustered his strength for one more huge effort to pry her loose, but still he couldn't move her.

Suddenly he felt himself being dragged from the car. He glanced at her pretty face one more time; then she was gone and a burst of cool air hit him.

A moment later his body was being doused with something; then a state trooper and an EMT grabbed him by his wrists and dragged him away from the car--just as it exploded. The trooper and the EMT tumbled to the ground, and Jack rolled to his stomach instinctively as a searing wave of heat blew past them.

The trooper was up on his feet right away. He sprinted to the Citation, jumped in behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and raced it past the burning sedan to the road. Jack rose on one elbow and stared at the burning hulk of the sedan, haunted by the awful look in the young woman's eyes. She'd known she had only seconds to live, yet she'd mouthed the words "thank you" as the flames engulfed her and he was pulled by the trooper and the EMT out of the wreck. Thank you for saving my baby, thank you for trying to save me. Those had been her last words. Jack hung his head. But she was dead. A sweet young woman with a beautiful baby, and she was dead. Trying hadn't been enough. God, what if this happened to Cheryl one night and whoever tried to save her failed? What if that person's try wasn't enough? How could he go on living without her?

Did this woman have someone who cared about her like that at home? Someone who would be so devastated by her death he wouldn't know how to keep going? He shut his eyes tightly. Too many damn questions to try to deal with now. Suddenly he felt older than he ever had. Like death was peering out at him from the flames.

"You're a hero, mister."

Jack glanced over at the EMT. "I don't feel like one." Damn. The guy looked so familiar. He checked the name on the shirt in the light from the blaze: Harry. One of the guys from the stadium the other night. The overweight one with the sad eyes. The one who seemed to sincerely care about his job.

"You saved the baby. That was all you could do. All anyone could have done." Harry smiled, recognizing Jack. "Hey, you're the guy we saw at Tarpon Stadium the other night."

"Uh-huh."

"Glad you're okay."

"Thanks."

"Better let me check you again after all of this," Harry suggested. "Can't be good for that heart of yours."

"I'm fine."

"That's what you said the other night, too."

"No, I really am." Jack gestured toward the wreck, starting to feel guilty that he'd wasted Harry's time the other night with the fake heart attack. Especially now that he'd experienced firsthand what this man had to deal with constantly. "There was a woman in there."

Harry grimaced. "I know, I--"

"Yeah, we saw her through the windshield," the trooper called, back from moving the Citation to safety. "There was no way you could have gotten her out in time, buddy. You did great just saving the baby."

Jack watched Harry crawl toward his partner, who was taking the baby out of the car seat and laying her on the ground to examine her. He recognized the other guy, too, and tried to remember his name. Biff. That was it. Now it was all coming back. Biff the prick. The one who looked at his job like it was a pain in his ass and didn't care if you lived or died.

"You okay?" the trooper asked, helping Jack to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm--"

"Hey, Tom!" Harry shouted.

"What you got?" the trooper yelled back, trotting over to where the EMTs were examining the baby.

Jack took one more look at the burning wreck, then headed toward the baby, too. He wanted to get a close-up look at the still-sobbing little girl.

"It's Rosario," Harry said to Biff. "Right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Jack caught Biff's sidelong glance, then a quick sign of recognition in his expression, too. But there wasn't any friendly hello, like there had been from Harry. The trooper exhaled heavily. "So that was Julia Hernandez in there," he said sadly.

"Must have been." Harry picked the baby up off the ground and held her to his chest. Her sobbing soon stopped. "So what do we do now?"

"Take her to Social Services," Biff said. "That's all we can do."

"Then he'll find her," the trooper countered, glancing at Jack, then quickly away. As if he wished he hadn't said what he said, Jack thought. "Who'll find her?" he demanded, gazing at the little girl. She was adorable, probably no more than a year old.

"What's going on?" he asked when nobody answered, sensing that they were holding back. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Julia's been calling 911 a lot in the past few weeks," Harry finally spoke up. "Her husband's been beating the hell out of her." A steely expression came to Harry's face as he stroked the baby's small head.

An expression that seemed out of place on Harry's face. It was the first time Jack had seen anything but compassion there.

"Rosario, too," Harry added.

Jack's eyes opened wide. "What?"

"Can you believe it?" The trooper's expression turned mean, too. Like he wanted to kill the guy. "Beating a baby?"

"Why didn't you arrest him?" Jack asked, aware of more sirens in the distance. "Why didn't she get a restraining order against him?"

"She wouldn't press charges," the trooper explained. "She wouldn't say that her husband was the one who'd beaten her when we got to the apartment. She was too afraid of losing him."

"Or getting killed once he got out if she did press charges," Biff pointed out. The trooper nodded. "Yeah, right. Same old story."

"Well, if we don't do something quick," Harry spoke up, "Julia's husband is gonna ultimately get Rosario if we just turn her over to Social Services." The trooper glanced at the emergency lights heading toward them in the distance.

"That's probably right. Might take him a few days, but he'll get her."

"Why in God's name would this guy want to hurt his own daughter?" Jack asked, dumbfounded.

Harry and Biff glanced at each other, then at the trooper.

"Because it isn't really his baby," Harry explained. "Julia put his name on the birth certificate because they were together when Rosario was conceived, and he thought it was his kid when she was born. When the bastard found out it wasn't really his a few weeks ago, he went ballistic. Decided to take it out on both of them." Jack plucked a couple of blades of grass, then tossed them away and watched them flutter to the ground. How could someone do that to a baby? Even if he'd thought it was his at first but really it wasn't. "Does Julia's husband drive a Mustang?" The trooper nodded. "Yeah, a souped-up red one. Why?"

So Julia's husband had run her off the road and killed her. "She passed me a ways back," Jack said sadly, gesturing into the darkness. In the direction he'd been coming from when the two cars had raced past. "She was going like a bat out of hell, and there was a Mustang right behind her, right on her tail. It was souped up. I'm not sure it was red, but it had stripes down the side. A fat one between two skinny ones, I think."

"That was him," the trooper confirmed.

"Well," Jack continued, "when I came around the bend, the Mustang was hanging by the crash. When I got close, he took off. You can probably find his tire tracks in the ground around here somewhere."

"He ran her off the road, Tom," Harry said to the trooper. "He killed her. And he's gonna kill this baby if he gets his hands on her. He's off his rocker. We gotta do something." Jack looked at the little girl again--she was so beautiful--then down the road. The flashing lights were getting close.

Harry reached out and grabbed Jack's arm. "Hey, pal, wasn't that your daughter with you at the baseball game the other night? I thought that was what she said when we first got there," he continued when Jack didn't answer right away. "Was it? Huh?"

"Yeah.
Why?
"

"She seemed real nice. Does she live here in Sarasota, too?"

"Yeah. She lives with me. Why?"

"Perfect." Harry's eyes flashed to Biff's, then to the trooper's. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Absolutely," the trooper agreed. "Against the book, but we can't let the book get in the way. We can't let that monster get Rosario. I'd never forgive myself." He turned to Jack.

"You gotta take this little girl and get her out of here, mister." Jack couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"What?"

"You saved her life a few minutes ago. Now you gotta do it again. Otherwise that first time will be wasted. You'll have risked your life for nothing. You want that?"

"No, but what you're asking me to do is crazy. I can't." The trooper motioned toward the emergency vehicles that were closing in. "You got to. Otherwise this little girl doesn't stand a chance," he said, picking her up and putting her back in the car seat. "It'll just be for a few days."

"But I don't..." Jack's voice trailed off. "Christ, I wouldn't know the first thing about taking care of a little--"

"You don't have to," Harry interrupted. "Your daughter'll help you. She's got a good heart. I could tell the other night."

Cheryl had a heart of gold, but how could Harry really have figured that out in such a short time?

"Do it, mister," Harry urged. "I don't want to have to respond to some emergency call and find this little girl black and blue and bleeding. Or drowned in a bathtub.
Please
." God, he'd never felt so old. So beaten up. "But I--"

"It'll be the best thing you ever do," the trooper cut in. "The best." He nodded somberly after a few moments. "Okay," he whispered. The trooper patted him on the shoulder and smiled, then turned, grabbed the car seat and Rosario and dashed toward the Citation. The next wave of emergency vehicles pulled up just as the trooper slammed the door shut after securing the car seat in the back.

"You're a good man," Harry said, patting Jack on the shoulder, too. Jack barely heard the words. The magnitude of what he'd just committed to was overwhelming. "Thanks," he muttered. "Oh, Christ." He'd almost forgotten how low he was on fuel.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

He sure as hell didn't want run out of gas with Rosario in the car. "Can I borrow five bucks for gas?"

Harry nodded compassionately and reached for his wallet. "Sure, pal."

"What's the matter?" Biff asked. "You poor or something?" Jack's eyes dropped. He was feeling exhausted--and vulnerable. Feeling his sixty-plus years more than he ever had. "Yup. Just about broke."

22

C
HERYL PULLED HER Honda to a quick, squeaky stop in the narrow driveway behind the Citation, then reached into the backseat and grabbed Bobby's bag. She was wearing some of his old stuff--an Oxford shirt with holes in both elbows as well as a pair of gray sweatpants. Her clothes were in the bag. The shirt and sweatpants were huge on her, made her look like a child. But she couldn't walk through the door wearing the clothes she'd gone to Bobby's in because she didn't want Daddy seeing how sexy they were. She didn't want him seeing the new red marks on her neck, either, so she was wearing the collar of Bobby's shirt unbuttoned and up.

Daddy was probably still in bed, but you could never be sure with him. Every once in a while he got up at the crack of dawn. She knew he was already suspicious of what was going on, and she was terrified that if he got another whiff of something bad, he'd steamroll right over to Bobby's apartment and start World War III. She was convinced she'd never see Bobby after that--and losing him would tear her heart out. She'd realized that while she was driving home. Realized how much she cared about him--despite his dark side.

She'd been adventurous last night while she was cooking. Worn an outfit she picked out yesterday at a high-end boutique near the office. A tank top that showed a lot of her fullC cleavage and a very short skirt. She'd felt positively naked, and predictably Bobby had loved it. Maybe too much. He'd been even more physical last night. Not abusive--not quite--but
very
aggressive. He'd pinned her to the mattress several times and slipped his fingers around her neck, whispering to her that he knew she liked it. She didn't, she hated it, but she'd made a commitment to him and she was going to live with it. She wasn't going to lose him. He might be her last chance. She was getting to that age where she had a better chance of being killed by a terrorist than marrying, she thought ruefully. And if you loved someone, really loved him completely, you accepted him completely. Meaning you accepted his desires--and his flaws--and gave him what he wanted. Really gave him what he wanted. No matter what it was. She wasn't a girl who went halfway when she gave her heart.

She was about to turn the key when a bright yellow service engine light caught her eye. She let her forehead fall gently to the steering wheel. She thought the engine had sounded funny on the way home, thought she'd heard a pinging noise she'd never noticed before. And the car had seemed to be jerking as it pulled away from red lights and stop signs. She'd hoped it was just her imagination, but obviously it wasn't. She didn't have money for a big repair job right now; she and Daddy were squeezed as it was. Money was always such a problem.

Of course, for the next two weeks money wouldn't be her biggest worry. Bobby hadn't used protection last night, said he hated dealing with that. And she hadn't been able to do anything about protecting herself because he'd forced himself on her and into her so strongly. He'd been irresponsible over and over--it seemed as if there was no limit to his energy--and she was right smack in the middle of that time of the month. A window that could produce a bad result. Then what would she do? She took a deep breath. More important, what would Bobby do? She turned the engine off, climbed out of the Honda, and headed up the cracked path toward the door. She couldn't bear to face that question right now.