Lover's Lane (19 page)

Not quite twenty—with a son of her own. Seeing the photo now, the only one left out of so many that were destroyed when Rick died, cut her like a double-edged sword.

She tossed the wallet back. “This proves nothing. The Saunders probably gave it to you.”

“No, they didn’t.
Rick
did. The day he asked me to be his best man.”

“Oh, God.” She shook her head, trying to deny feeling anything for this man even as she longed to run to his arms and beg him to tell her this was all some crazy mistake.

“Get out, Jake.”

“I came over to tell you the truth, and you’re going to hear me out, damn it.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her. “I
trusted
you and you lied to me.”

“That’s good coming from you. Did Rick even know your real name?”

“Not until he came back to Borrego, and I’d had Christopher. I was Caroline Graham to everyone in Borrego Springs. Even my roommate, Wilt, didn’t know my real name. I was in too deep. Rick wasn’t like anyone I’d ever dated before. He was smart, polite. He had money. But I loved him because he saw something in me. He told me I could be anything I wanted to be, that I was smart enough to make something more of myself.

“He talked about how he had always had everything handed to him on a silver platter and how he had pretty much wasted twenty-six years of his life. He was going to Japan to work for his father’s company. He was excited to prove himself to his parents. He wanted to change his life.

“I thought that month was all we’d ever have together. That he’d come back from Japan, maybe stop by when he was checking on his property but that he wouldn’t necessarily want to see me again. We were from two different worlds.”

“Then you had Christopher.”

“When Rick came back and found out about the baby, I told him about my past and my real name. I thought he would have told his parents, but when their lawyer showed up calling me Caroline, assuming my name was Caroline Graham, I didn’t let on any different.”

Jake stepped toward her. She stepped back.

“I didn’t come here to find you for the Saunders,” he said. “I came because of my obligation to Rick. I had to make certain his son was doing all right. And that’s exactly what I found. You’re a great mother, Carly, and he’s a great kid.”

“I want you out of my house, Jake.”

He walked over to the couch, sat down heavily, leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Or what? You’ll call the cops? Go ahead, but I’m not leaving until I get some answers. I want to help you clear this mess up so that you can stop running.”

“I think you’ve helped enough.”

“Are you planning to run again, Carly? Whose name will you use next?”

“What choice do I have? They want Christopher. The Saunders want to take him away from me like they tried to before.”

“There is no
they
anymore. Charles Saunders is dead. All Anna wants is to meet her grandson, to be part of his life. She can do a lot for him, and for you.”

“Oh, sure. She can take him away.”

“You think she’ll try to influence Chris with her money? Is that it? Chris loves you, Carly. It’ll take a lot more than her wealth to break that bond. I know, believe me. I had a wealthy grandfather who tried to carry on a tug-of-war with my own mother for years . . .”

“They sent a lawyer out to the desert, Jake. He offered me a fortune to hand over my baby and walk out of Christopher’s life. He said that if I didn’t agree, they would take me to court and sue for custody. They already knew all about my past . . . about Caroline’s past, anyway. I knew I couldn’t fight them, especially if the whole truth came out. I knew they’d find out about my past, and I’d lose Chris.”

“I can help you straighten everything out.”

“Do you actually expect me to believe anything you say?”

“What’s the alternative? You can’t just pick up and leave. This is your home. Chris’ home.”

“He’ll adjust. You’d be surprised what kids can adjust to. We’ve moved plenty of times.”

“If I found you, Anna Saunders will hire someone who’ll eventually find you, too.”

“Anna Saunders hired
you
.”

“No, she didn’t. She wanted to, but I refused.”

“Am I supposed to believe you
now
? After what you’ve done?” Cornered, she paused, tried to gather her wits. Dear God, she’d slept with him last night. Made love with him. Made a complete fool of herself.

He didn’t look like he was going anywhere without being forced out.

Despite his betrayal, an inexplicable ache of longing for him still lingered. She had placed her trust in him, and he had lied by omission. She had taken a chance, opened her heart, left it unprotected—and now this.

His expression was closed and unreadable except for the hurt in his eyes.

She reminded herself that
he
was the one who lied. What good would it do to drag things out?

“Please, just go, Jake.”

“What are you saying?” He got off the couch, walked over to where she stood and stopped two feet away. He reached out his hand, tempted her to touch him.

She balled her hands into fists. “It’s over, Jake.”

A frown creased his brow, his eyes suddenly hard as flint.

“What about last night? You can’t deny what happened between us. That was real. That was true—on my part at least. Let that be the beginning, Carly, not the end.”

“You have no idea how hard it was for me to go to you last night. I took a big chance, Jake, and for what? You
lied
. You came into our lives knowing who I was, who Christopher was, without ever admitting that you were Rick’s friend—not to mention that you’re a private investigator.”

“If I had told you the first day I met you, you would have run, Carly. Just like you’re ready to do now. I couldn’t risk it. I was going to tell you the truth until you surprised me last night.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Believe it or not, I knew just how hard it was for you to come to me like that, to offer yourself. I knew how vulnerable you were because I felt the same way. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt anything for anyone, Carly. I was putting myself on the line, too. It was a beautiful night. I just didn’t want to ruin things, that’s all.”

“Pretty words. You just wanted to get me into bed. Maybe you just wanted to prove you could have something that was Rick’s.”

His gaze hardened, his eyes turned steel blue. “I’m not that kind of man.”

“You can say anything you want now, can’t you? I’ll never know the truth.”

27

JAKE ACHED TO HOLD HER, BUT THE LAST THING SHE WANTED now was his touch. Her face had lost all color, her eyes shimmered with tears of anger and despair.

Even knowing that she had lived her own lie for years, when she had accused him of lying to her, the truth hurt.

“You want to talk about truth, Carly?” Mindful of the boys in the back room, Jake lowered his voice. “Who is Caroline Graham? What is she to you?
Where
is she?”

Her color bleached to ash. She slumped down onto a dinette chair and stared down at her trembling hands. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his again, her voice came so softly that he had to strain to hear the words.

“She’s dead.”

“Wake up, Carly.”

Someone was shaking her, whispering into her ear. She
opened her eyes to the darkened room, recognized Caroline’s voice. Raising herself on an elbow, she stared into a
perfect face with features beautiful enough to be a model’s.
They’d been living with the same foster care family for two
years.

Caroline’s perfume, Beautiful, was flowery, subtle, yet
unmistakable. She kept the bottle hidden beneath her mattress, but Carly was welcome to use it anytime she wanted.

“What’s up?” Carly rubbed at her eyes and yawned.

“This is it. Get up. We’re leaving.”

Carly’s heart started pounding so hard she was sure Caroline could hear it. They’d talked of running away, schemed
and planned, and now the adventure was about to begin.

“Get up and dress. Bring your parka. I’ve got some guys
from Tucson waiting at the end of the block. They’ll give us
a ride to Phoenix.”

“It’s dark out.” Carly sat up, groggy, disoriented. She’d
been out with four friends, partying around the block with
one of the kid’s parents and their friends. The liquor was
free—if you didn’t count letting a couple of the dads feel
you up.

“Come on.” Caroline tugged on her arm.

Carly was determined not to be left behind, but she’d
never been one to hop out of bed. She rubbed her eyes,
tasted cotton mouth.

“Dennie will be home soon,” Caroline warned. Dennis
Jensen, their forty-five-year-old foster father had walked
into the bathroom after Carly had just stepped out of the
shower and molested her the night she’d moved in, his way
of making sure she felt welcome.

Ashamed, degraded, and confused, she’d sat curled up in
the corner of her bed with her back pressed against the wall
until Caroline got home from work that night.

The older girl had held and petted her while Carly cried
and told her everything.

“Hey, it’s bad, but it’s not the worst thing that’s bound to
happen to you in your life, Carly.”

“How . . . how can you say that? How can you act like
it’s nothing? He . . . he put his hand on me, Caro. He
touched me all over. He . . . he would have . . . I think he
would have raped me if Nola hadn’t come looking for
him.” She shivered, hugged herself tight. “I know he
would.”

Caroline shook her head. “Nah. He wouldn’t. He can’t
get it up. He tried it on me when I first moved here, too. I
was about your age. I told him I’d cut his useless little
pecker off and hand it to Nola if he ever tried it again. I’m
sorry I wasn’t here to warn you, kid. Just steer clear of him
and protect yourself.”

After that night Carly made certain that she was never
alone with Dennie. Caroline watched her like a hawk, and
if they weren’t out someplace together, Caroline made certain she was home before Dennie got back from the late
shift at Walgreens so that Carly would never be alone.
Hanging out with Caroline and her hard-core friends was
the better of two evils.

“What about Nola? What if she catches us leaving this
late?” Carly glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty in the
morning.

“Nola? She’ll believe anything I say. She’s such an air-head. She’s got a one-digit I.Q. or she’d never have married
Dennie in the first place.” Caroline pulled Carly up, shoved
some clothes at her. “Get dressed. If there’s anything else
you want to take, it has to fit in your pockets. Nola’s half
asleep in front of the TV. I’m going down to the corner to
wait with the guys and keep them interested.”

Carly sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a long-sleeved top that Caroline handed her. In the six years since
her dad died, she’d been in four foster homes, and this was
by far the worst of the bunch.

Nola had a thing for kittens, which of course tended to
grow up too fast and breed almost as fast as rabbits. She
took care of her animals with as much finesse as she took
care of the revolving foster kids the county gave her.

Dennis was hardly ever home, and when he was, he
was always bellowing at Nola to either shut the cats or the
kids up.

Carly did okay in school, but not great. She ran with Caroline and the bullies who might have otherwise found her an
easy target. Both Caroline and Carly were leggy blondes, although Caroline had a body that a lingerie model would
envy, and Carly had yet to develop much of anything. Caroline was popular with a rough crowd, and she spread the
word that Carly was her half sister. Carly’s own reputation
had grown to epic proportions by mere association with
Caroline.

After Dennie had shoved his fingers up inside her and
pressed her against the cold bathroom wall, Carly figured
that letting one of the boys put his hands on her wouldn’t be
half as bad.

Carly sighed and watched Caroline slip out of the room,
knowing in her heart this was a turning point in her life
from which there would be no going back. She’d taken care
of her dad for most of what little childhood life gave her.
Taking care of herself on the streets had to be a hell of a lot
easier.

With Caroline laughing in the front seat of the Firebird
convertible, her arm around the driver, a nineteen-year-old
parolee who went by only one name, Lucky, Carly sat in
back beside Lucky’s friend, Raul, warm, stoned, not a care
in the world. The cloying scent of marijuana stained the air
inside the car.

They were speeding down a side road off Highway 40,
somewhere past Winslow, Arizona, when Caroline started
licking Lucky’s ear and tugging on his earlobe with her
teeth. Dark wine-colored lipstick stained his neck. Carly
started giggling when the lip print suddenly seemed hilarious to her.

Wind rattled the car’s soft top and whistled through a
gap where the back window didn’t fully close. The wheels
hummed against the pavement. The speedometer read
seventy-five.

It was freezing. So cold that Carly was glad she’d brought
along the puke-green parka that Nola had recently picked
up for her at the Goodwill. She pulled the hood of her parka
over her head, smoothed the backs of the acrylic knit yellow
gloves on her hands, and then continued to watch Caroline
make a fool of herself keeping Lucky interested enough to
drive them all the way to Blythe, on the California border.

The guy was definitely a loser. Even Carly could see it. So
was his friend. When she first balked at climbing into the
backseat with the sullen, silent, Raul, Caroline had whispered to her that the guys were only a ticket out of Albuquerque. In a couple of days they’d be gone.

Caroline glanced over her shoulder at her audience and
winked. Carly slid her gaze over to Raul, who was getting
hot and bothered by the show in the front seat. She’d let
him slide his hand under her shirt, but only after he gave her
another hit off the joint.

When a thick rain that bordered on sleet began to smear
the front windshield, Carly shivered, wishing Lucky would
slow down. Her dad never ran out of stories about all the
fatalities caused by black ice and idiots, and Carly was certain an idiot was driving, even if she wasn’t sure they were
on black ice.

“Hey, flash your tits at those guys in the motor home up
there.” Lucky pushed on Caroline’s shoulder until she was
no longer leaning on the console, but back in her own
bucket seat.

“Where?” She rubbed her warm palm in a circle on the
fogged passenger side window. “I don’t see them.”

“Up ahead. They passed me a few minutes ago while you
were jacking around with my ear. Get ready, and when I go
by, lift your sweater.”

She pursed her full lips, leaned toward him, pretending to
be miffed.

“And if I don’t want to?”

He looked over his shoulder at Carly. “Then maybe I’ll
have your little sister do it.”

“She’s not flashing anybody.” Caroline glared a silent
threat at Raul. “And
you
keep your hands off her.”

“Hey, back off.” Lucky shifted gears and started to pass
the motor home. “I guess you two girls could walk to California. Come on. What’s the big fucking deal? Do it.”

Caroline got to her knees. “The fucking deal is it’s fucking cold out there.”

“Press ’em up against the window. You owe me.”

“Shit. This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,”
Caroline mumbled as she shrugged out of her plum-colored
parka. Her fuzzy-pink, fake angora sweater showed off her
full breasts to perfection. Leashing them in a bra was something she would never have considered. A knit tank top was
all she ever wore beneath her clothes.

Carly was butt cold, watching the scene unfold through a
haze of smoke and a clouded mind. She started to laugh
when Caroline got to her knees in the front seat and turned
to face the window.

Lucky made his move as soon as Caroline grabbed the
hem of her sweater in both hands. With the windshield
wipers slapping at the slush, it was hard for Carly to see the
road ahead. Lucky whipped the wheel to the right. Carly
slid away from Raul and slammed up against the side of the
car. Her seat belt prevented her from rocking forward.

In the split second before impact, she was aware of a
sharp bend in the yellow line down the middle of the highway, of Caroline kneeling in the passenger seat, her high,
ivory breasts bouncing as she whipped up her sweater and
pressed against the foggy glass.

“Shit!” Lucky cursed and jerked the wheel in the opposite direction.

Metal scraped and tore against metal. The motor home
swiped the front half of the Firebird, sent it careening across
the road. Then the car started to roll.

Caroline’s vinyl purse flew back and hit Carly in the face
as the horrific sound of breaking glass and Raul’s oddly
high-pitched scream filled her ears. The never-ending roll
after roll as the car tumbled down the steep embankment,
shook her insides and rattled her bones. Her seat belt tore
into her ribs and shoulder.

Finally the Firebird partially righted itself as it came to
rest in a gully yards below the highway.

For a few moments there was only deathly silence. Carly
blinked, tried to move. She shook her head, thinking that
they must have smoked some really great shit, until she felt
an ache in her left shoulder. She sat up. All her limbs moved.

As the fog in her mind slowly cleared, her thoughts
drifted, until she realized Caroline was no longer in the
front seat. Most of the windshield was missing—all that
was left was a crystal mosaic of shattered glass.

Beside her, Raul moaned. He was wedged between the
seat and the floor, his left leg twisted out from his hip. His
eyes were closed, his lips curved in a tight grimace of pain.
Blood smeared the corner of his mouth.

Lucky was slumped over the steering wheel. Carly unfastened her seat belt, hooked the long strap from Caroline’s
purse over her shoulder. For a second she panicked, thinking she was trapped when the door wouldn’t budge, but
then she managed to shove it open far enough to crawl out.