Blind Dates Can Be Murder (39 page)

And it was abuse, she understood that now. It was wrong. Men weren’t supposed to hurt women. Stepfathers weren’t supposed to beat their stepchildren. Husbands weren’t supposed to torment their wives.

Drying her tears, Lettie took ragged breaths and tried to decide what to do. She could just go, without looking back, without giving him a chance to find her. But she needed her money, and she needed her passport, both of which were back in the room at the hotel.

She swallowed hard, wishing with all of her might that she wasn’t alone in this, that she had someone to help her. Other than her little sister, though, when had she ever had
anyone
to help her? She was on her own.

She had always been on her own.

He only wished he had scissors or a knife. Still, Chuck painstakingly tore through every single piece of clothing in Lettie’s suitcase with his bare hands.

Riiiip
.

A sleeve off of a blouse.

Riiip
.

A skirt torn in half.

When he’d finished destroying her clothes, he went after the suitcase, stomping on it, breaking off the handle, crushing the sides.

When he was done, breathless, he looked around the room for the rest of her meager possessions.

Her pillow. From the case, he could tell she had brought her own pillow. He carried it into the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet, and shoved it down into the ruststained bowl.

Back in the room, he grabbed a small pile of papers and receipts from the dresser and carried them to the sink. One by one, he went through them, shocked to see that Lettie had signed up for a dating service called Dates&Mates. A dating service! Furiously, he scooped all of the papers into the sink, then he took a pack of matches from the nearby ashtray and burned them.

All that left was a set of books. That would feel good, to tear out each and every page. He grabbed the case they were in, carried it to the bed, and sat.

The stupid things were stuck in the wooden box that held them. Grunting, he pulled and pulled but the books wouldn’t come out. Finally, he set the box on the floor and stood on top of it. He jumped, once, twice. On the third jump, the wood snapped.

Leaning down, looking at what was there, he caught his breath.

These weren’t books.

It was a hiding place. A treasure chest.

Quickly, Chuck pulled apart the whole thing as twenty dollar bills rained out across the floor. Laughing, he gathered the money and counted it. That little idiot. Thought she could hide her earnings in a fake box of books.

When he’d finished counting, though, Chuck was confused. It was a lot of money, but it wasn’t
all
her money, not even close. If she’d been skimming and stealing data for three years, like Mickey said, there should be ten times as much here.

So where was the rest of it?

Trembling from head to toe, Lettie pulled into the dark parking lot of the warehouse, glad the sun had already set, and drove to the far end. She could only hope there was no security guard who would be making the rounds and spot her. She turned off the car, summoned all of her nerve, and got out.

Carrying her cell phone, she crept along the side of the building, hoping she had calculated correctly. Sure enough, as she reached the corner, she could see that she was in the right spot. Across the street and down just a bit was the parking lot of the Palace.

Lettie found a spot in the shadows of the overhang and then sat, pulling her knees to her chest. It was a chilly evening and she only had a light jacket. But she was trembling so violently that she hoped that might keep her warm.

She simply sat and watched for a while. One man came. Two women left. Otherwise, the place was quiet. Lettie didn’t know if Chuck was still in there or not. She had a feeling he was, and that he was up, because she could see that the light was on in her room.

Finally, knowing she had no choice, she picked up her cell phone and dialed the number for information.

“City and state?” the recorded voice said.

“Mulberry Glen, Pennsylvania,” she rasped.

“Listing?”

“The Palace. It’s…it’s a hotel.”

22

T
he phone rang as Chuck was neatly stacking the money into piles. He answered it, thinking it must be the motel manager.

“What?” he barked into the receiver.

“When did you get out?”

It was Lettie.

Chuck took a deep breath, ready to scream, ready to yell. But he knew that would only make her run again. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and speak in a rational voice.

“Today. I thought I’d surprise you, but you ran away before I could wake up from my nap and say hello.”

“What are you doing here?”

What am I doing here? I
’
m here to claim my wife
.

“I miss you, Lettie,” he said sweetly. “I love you. After three years, I thought you’d want to see me too.”

“All I want is a divorce.”

Chuck sat on the side of the bed, trying to calculate the situation. There was a strength to her tone that he hadn’t ever heard before. It might be a little harder to win her back this time.

“Listen, Lettie, I know we’ve had our share of troubles, but do we really want to throw away everything without giving it another try? I need for you to forgive me. And I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Forgiven me? For what?”

“For abandoning me in my time of need. For disappearing once I went into prison.”

Lettie was silent for a moment.

“I don’t ever want to see you again, Chuck,” she repeated. “Ever.”

He wanted to pace, but the cord on the phone was too short. Instead, he leaned back against the pillows and ran a hand through his hair.

“You might change your mind once you hear what I’ve got to tell you,” he said.

“What?”

“Our situation will be different from now on, Lettie. We won’t just be living payday to payday. We don’t even have to travel for skimming anymore. In fact, we won’t ever have to work again.”

“Chuck, what are you talking about?”

“We’re rich, Lettie. You think the money you stashed away in this little box is a lot? Wait until I tell you about the million and a half we’re splitting with Mickey.”

“You sure you’ll be okay here alone?” Danny’s mother asked. She had already plied him with food and brought him a fresh ice pack.

“I’m fine, Ma,” he said. “You’ve been fluttering around all day. You guys go to your meetings.”

His mom had the women’s league at the church at seven thirty, while his father had a gathering of the deacons at eight.

“Remember,” Danny added, “I am twenty-eight years old and I usually live alone.”

“I know,” she said, reaching for her purse. “But you’re so incapacitated right now.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Finally, they headed out the door. Danny listened as the garage door opened and, after the car pulled out, closed. Alone. He was finally, blessedly alone.

Not that he had anything special going on. He was just tired of being surrounded by people. It had been a long day.

He would be awfully glad when he could finally get that cast on and go home. Thinking of the cast, he leaned down and pulled the ice from his foot. Though the discoloration of his toes was worse, the swelling was already much, much better. By keeping it propped up all day and icing it, off and on, around the clock, he had managed to get it back down to almost its normal size. His hope was that they might cast it in the morning when he went to the orthopedist.

For now, he had no choice but to relax. His mother had placed within his reach books and magazines and the telephone and snacks and the bag Denise had sent. He thought about trying the GameBoy, but instead went through the pile of books.

Near the bottom was his Bible, and with a twinge of guilt he realized that he hadn’t had his quiet time that morning. He pulled it from the stack and flipped to the appropriate chapter. He was on a read-the-Bible-in-one-year plan, and he had already learned the hard way that if he missed even one day, it threw him off for the entire week.

Right now, it was some pretty slow going. He had made it halfway through Isaiah, but for some reason the verses hadn’t really been connecting for him. In his study Bible, in the introduction to the book, it mentioned that poor Isaiah had eventually been martyred “by being sawed in half inside a hollow log.”

He hadn’t ever heard that before, and as he read, that new knowledge kept distracting him. When the verse said “O upright One, you make the way of the righteous smooth,” Danny couldn’t help but think,
Yeah, but in the end you
’
re gonna be sawed in half inside a hollow log. What do you know?

Now, before he started in again, he paused in prayer, asking God to take the silliness from his mind and illuminate any truths he needed to see.

It didn’t take long for those truths to jump out at him in glowing neon colors. First was Isaiah 30:15: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength…” then a while later came 32:17: “The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever.”

Rest…quietness…peace…

Danny knew God was telling him to slow down. This whole book, in fact, made a big deal out of the busyness of the world vs. the quiet rest of following God. Danny wondered if the broken foot was God’s way of saying
Slow down, Danny. Trust. Keep your eyes on Me
.

When he had finished chapter 32, he put away the Bible and bowed his head, asking God to help him in those areas. He did have a hard time slowing down, especially on the subject of his career. It seemed that if he just worked harder, if he just worked faster, then sooner or later he’d achieve his goals.

“Help me to remember that my goals need to be Your goals,” Danny said out loud, eyes closed. “Help me stay surrendered and trusting only in You.”

He prayed a while longer, placing his relationship with Jo at the altar of God. It wasn’t easy, but in the last six months, while she had been working on intimacy issues, he had been working privately on surrender. This relationship, if it was meant to be, wasn’t something he could force into being or wish into place. If it was God’s will, and if Jo could also learn to trust in that will, then it would happen.