Present Danger (33 page)

Wesley looked unconvinced. He picked up a pillow and gazed down at the infant consideringly. Aunie felt panic claw at her throat. “Look at her, Wesley!”
she cried in desperation. “She’s not even a week old. Do Ah look as though I just gave birth? Have you noticed any baby things in this apartment?”

She didn’t fully breathe again until he let the pillow drop to the bed. “Shut her up,” he snapped.

Aunie picked up Greta-Leigh and cradled her in her arms. She sat on the side of the bed and talked soothingly to the child. When the frantic cries began to subside, Aunie searched for and found her pacifier. She slipped it into the baby’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” Wesley said peremptorily. Aunie started to set Greta-Leigh back in her nest on her bed, but he stopped her, saying, “No. Bring the brat along.”

His hand clamped painfully on the back of Aunie’s neck and he shoved her along ahead of him. In the dining room, he scraped out a chair and pushed her onto the seat. Turning sideways so he could keep an eye on her, he yanked up the wooden miniblinds. Aunie blinked against the sudden strong glare.

Wesley looked out into the quiet neighborhood for a moment. Then he opened a window and whirled back to Aunie. Before she could divine his intentions, he had grabbed the baby from her arms and was dangling her out the window, only his hands on her waist supporting her. Aunie screamed.

Wesley glared at her over his shoulder. “You’ve got a choice, you faithless slut,” he said between his teeth. “You can continue to defy me … in which case, I’ll fucking kill this little black bastard.”

Aunie’s eyes never left Greta-Leigh, who was beginning to scream in rage. Sickness filled her throat as she watched the pacifier tumble from the baby’s mouth and drop from sight. “Don’t hurt her, Wesley.”

“Beg, you bitch.”

“
Please!
”

“You through fighting?”

“Yes.” Her head bowed, the weight of it suddenly unbearable, abruptly much too heavy for her slender neck to support. “You can do whatever you want to me; I’ll do anything you say. Just don’t hurt the baby.”

“All right. That’s more like it.” He brought his hands back inside the window and passed Greta-Leigh carelessly to his ex-wife. “Put her on the couch. And don’t even think of tryin’ to get cute with me, bitch.”

Aunie cuddled the baby to her breast. For the first time since Wesley’s entrance, tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “I’m so sorry, sweetie pie,” she whispered into the baby’s hair. “So sorry.” It sickened her to see this innocent child smeared with her blood. Carefully, she laid her on the couch and propped a pillow next to her to prevent her from falling off.

“Now, get back here.”

Aunie wiped her mouth once again, and then wiped the blood from her hands against the seat of her jeans. With a start of surprise, she felt the wooden handle of the paring knife in her back pocket. She had forgotten about it. Wesley grabbed her and dragged her over to the window before she could formulate a plan that would incorporate it. He studied her misshappen face in the strong light.

“You look like shit,” he said. He rummaged through her purse with one hand and pulled out a lipstick. Holding her by a handful of hair, he slashed the red gloss over her mouth and one cheek. Tossing it aside, he shoved her into the kitchen.

“Make me that tea,” he snapped. He stood in the doorway and surveyed the room. “Make one move for those knives,” he warned her, “and I’ll snap the brat’s neck before you clear the blade from the holder. Push ‘em back.” She complied. “Further.”
She shoved the wooden holder to the far corner of the counter. “Good. Now, get your butt back over here and make me a cup of tea.”

Aunie turned the burner back up under the pan of simmering water. She opened an overhead cupboard and pulled down a small box of Earl Grey tea bags. Selecting one, she set it down and opened another cupboard for a china cup and saucer. Her field of vision was rapidly narrowing as her eyes swelled shut. “Do you want lemon?”

“No.”

“Cookies?” She was stalling for time.

“Why not?” He surveyed her with arrogant satisfaction. “We’ll have a fucking tea party. For one. You, of course, are not invited, except to serve.” When her carefully schooled face failed to register any reaction, he looked away angrily. His mind searched furiously for a new way to torment her. “This place is a dump.”

Aunie grabbed the handle of the pan and tossed the scalding water in his face. Wesley screamed, clawing at his eyes. He sank to his knees, but even blinded, he managed to obstruct her exit from the narrow kitchen. One of his arms hooked around her calf, preventing her escape, and he tugged hard, throwing her off balance. She toppled over, landing half on top of him.

One of his hands fumbled along her body until it attached to her throat. Muttering promises of a long, tortuous death, he squeezed. Whimpering, Aunie fumbled the paring knife from her back pocket and slashed blindly at his arm. She shuddered as she felt the warmth of his blood join her own, but at least his grip loosened. She stumbled to her feet and ran
for her life. Snatching Greta-Leigh from the couch, she raced out the door.

His obscene, screamed threats reverberated in her ears as she slammed it shut behind her.

“Pregnant!” Lola muttered for the fifteenth time as she stared moodily out the car window. James grinned, and noticing, she scowled at him. “You think that’s amusin’? I tried for
four years
to have a baby. Four years, mon! So I give up, we adopt Greta-Leigh, and what happens? In less than eight months I’m gonna have two childrens under a year old. Wait ‘til Otis hears about this—the mon’s gonna have a heart attack!”

James brought the Jeep to a stop at a red light and reached for the tiny jeweler’s box on the dashboard. He snapped it open and stared with satisfaction at the slender gold wedding band nestled within. He ran his thumb over its narrow row of five diamonds. He had purchased it while waiting for Lola to emerge from her appointment.
There
was a risk Aunie couldn’t ignore.

He forced his attention back to Lola. “It never
occurred to you it was morning sickness making you toss your cookies the past coupla days, I take it.”

“No, you fool mon, it didn’t! I was sick in the middle of the afternoon. Mornin’s I felt great.” Lola turned her head to glare at him, obviously in no mood for humor. “The light’s turned green, James,” she informed him and put her hand out peremptorily. “Here. Let me see that.”

“Mercy, mercy me!” she said in admiration a moment later. “And me widout my shades!”

“Y’ don’t think it’s too gaudy, do you?” he queried her anxiously. Restrained taste was not, after all, something they taught in the Terrace.

“No, mon, I think it’s beautiful. As dainty and elegant as Aunie herself. She’s goin’ to love it, James.”

He hoped she was right.

They lucked into a parking space only a few houses down from the apartment building. James came around the hood of the Jeep and assisted Lola from the car. “Looks like Bobby’s here,” he commented, nodding toward the Harley parked on the pathway. He was smiling at her continued grumbling as he ushered her into the building, knowing that once she felt better she would probably be thrilled with the doctor’s report. But the strident beeping of the alarm that greeted their ears the moment she opened her front door wiped every trace of amusement from his face.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered. He pushed Lola toward the phone. “Call 911!”

He took the stairs two at a time, bellowing Aunie’s name as he hit the second floor hallway.

“Jimmy?” Bob stumbled out of the apartment, his color pasty. “Jesus, I’m glad you’re here. It looks like there was a massacre in there …”

James shoved past him into the apartment. He halted abruptly in the entrance to the living room, reeling back against his brother’s solid bulk as he came up behind him.

The room was torn apart, the lighter pieces of furniture overturned, lamps and small knicknacks scattered and broken. One of the dining area windows stood wide open, and on several surfaces throughout the apartment were drying smears and coagulating pools of blood. Its strong metallic scent mingled with an aroma of something scorched. “Where is she?” When Bob didn’t immediately answer, he turned on him, gripping his shirtfront. “Where the fuck is she!”

“I don’t know, Jimmy. I just got here a few minutes ago, myself.” Bob grasped his brother’s shoulders. “There’s somethin’ you’d better see.” He guided him further into the room.

The man’s body was sprawled out on the dining area floor, one leg stretched into the kitchen doorway. A track of blood indicated he’d dragged himself from that room. The scorched smell was stronger there, and James stepped over the prostrate form. He turned off a burner that glowed red and then turned back to squat next to the man. Nudging him over onto his back, he reached for a pulse.

Bobby hunkered down across from him. “Is he dead?”

“I can’t feel a heartbeat.”

“Jesus, look at his face,” Bob said, staring at the red and blistered skin. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

“Cunningham, I think,” James said, glancing up at his brother. “Aunie’s ex. Bobby, have you checked the bedroom?”

“Yeah. No one’s there.”

“Oh shit, man, where
is
she?”

“Jimmy …” Bob hesitated, looking over at the opened window. “I, uh, haven’t looked out there.”

Lola arrived just then. She stopped in the doorway, took one look at the destruction to Aunie’s apartment, smelled the blood, saw the body the two men squatted next to, and fled to the bathroom where she was sick. James stood. He had to force himself to walk over to the window. Bracing himself, he looked out, and his knees sagged in relief when there was nothing to see. Head hanging, he had to clutch the windowsill to keep himself upright as he gulped air deep into his lungs.

Gradually, he pulled himself together. If ever there were a moment when it was crucial to remain levelheaded and utilize his intelligence, it was now. He met Lola outside the bathroom and ushered her from the apartment, Bob trailing behind them.

“Where are they, James?” Lola begged to know. “Where’s Aunie and my baby?”

“I don’t know, Lola. But we’ll find them.” He drew another deep breath and shoveled his hand through his hair. “Did you call 911?”

She blinked. “Yes. But they wanted to know if anyone was hurt before they’d dispatch a unit. I tried to explain ‘bout Aunie’s ex-husband and the restrainin’ order and the alarm ringin’, but I don’t know. They said they’d send someone.”

Inside her apartment, James gently pushed Lola toward the phone again. “Call Otis.”

“Oh, God, what am I gonna tell him?
Where are they
!”

It was then that they heard the baby crying. It was muffled and faint, but it came from within the apartment. James was galvanized into action before the
other two even had a chance to react. He tracked the sound into the nursery.

At first glance it appeared empty, but the cry was more audible and he crossed over to the closet. Lola and Bob burst into the room just as he was opening the door.

Aunie scrambled crablike into the furthest corner, twisting to present her back, the baby against her shoulder protectively sheltered between her and the wall. She reached back with one arm, brandishing the knife toward the opening with weak awkwardness. “Back off!” she warned shrilly. “Ah sweah Ah’ll kill you, Wesley, before Ah let you get your filthy hands on her again.”

Greta-Leigh’s wails crescendoed.

“Magnolia?” James said softly. He got down on his hands and knees on the closet floor and inched toward her. “It’s okay, baby,” he crooned. “It’s okay. Wesley’s not gonna hurt you again. I promise you, honey, nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again.” Bile climbed up his throat as he got his first good look at her.

“Jimmy?” Aunie peered in the direction of his voice. She tried to make out his face to verify that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, but both eyes were swollen shut.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” He reached out and gently grasped her wrist. She shuddered at the touch and huddled further into the corner, but she allowed him to unpeel her fingers from around the hilt of the knife. He removed it from her hand. “Lola’s here, Aunie. Will you let her have Greta-Leigh?”

“Let me hear her voice,” Aunie replied suspiciously. She still wasn’t positive she hadn’t wished all this up.

“Woo-mon?” Lola knelt in the closet’s doorway. “Are you and my baby okay?”

Aunie began to cry. “Ah’m sorry, Lola,” she sobbed. “Ah’m so sorry. Wesley held her out the window and Ah got blood all ovah her. God, please, forgive me; Ah’d give anythin’ not to have involved her.”

James scooped her up in his arms and backed out of the closet. He sat down on the floor with his back against the wall, Aunie cradled on his lap, the baby still clutched possessively to her chest.

“God Almighty,” Bob said faintly.

“Call 911 again, Bobby,” James directed him, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the infant’s roars of outrage. “Tell them we need immediate medical attention as well as the cops.”

Aunie had quit crying. Her broken nose made it difficult to breathe and she laid her head wearily against James’s chest, panting through her open mouth. “Greta’s wet,” she whispered.

Tears flowed down Lola’s face. “I’ll take her now, Aunie,” she murmured. “Okay? Hand her to me, please. I’ll clean her up and change her into dry clothes.” She reached out for her child.

“Yes, good.” Aunie pressed her parted, swollen lips against the baby’s head and then relinquished her to her mother. “Keep her safe.”

Lola blanched when she saw the blood covering her child, but the moment she peeled off her little stretch suit and used a baby wipe to clean her hands and face, she realized that none of the blood covering her was her own. Greta-Leigh’s only real problem was a soaked diaper. Gnawing her lip, she looked across the room at her battered friend.

“I’m cold, Jimmy. Really cold.”

James looked down at Aunie and was scared out of his mind. He had no idea how much blood she had lost, but it was obvious she was in shock and fading fast. “Lola! Get me a blanket. Oh, Christ, where’s that ambulance?” Even as he spoke the words, he could hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance. He wrapped the two of them in the quilt Lola handed him. “Hang on, baby. Just hang on a little longer.” He rubbed his cheek against the crown of her head. “God, I’m sorry, Magnolia. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. I failed you when you needed me most.”

“No,” she whispered. “Didn’t.” She panted weakly, then gathered her strength. “Saved … life. Those … lessons … I … hated.” Her fingers curled weakly in his shirt. “Remembered, Jimmy. Did … n’t… panic.”

Bob ushered in the paramedics. They muscled James aside and began to work over Aunie. As soon as they had her stabilized, they put her on a collapsible gurney to transport her to the hospital.

It was as the medics were extending the legs of the stretcher that James noticed the dark, wet bloom of blood staining the crotch of her jeans. He watched them hang the IV on the attached stand and cover her with a blanket, and he felt as if a giant fist had slugged him in the stomach.

If she had been pregnant before, she was no longer.

“Dead?” Aunie turned her head in the direction of the detective’s voice. “
I
killed him?” Her head was fuzzy from the narcotics they had given her for the pain, and she thought it was that which was causing her confusion. “I-I-I …
no.
He was yellin’ obscenities and threats when I left. I slashed at his arm to stop him from choking me, but he was still screamin’ at
me when I grabbed Greta-Leigh and ran out the door.” She groped along the side of the hospital bed with her right hand. “Jimmy?”

James leaned forward in his chair and clasped her hand in both of his. “Cunningham’s dead, Magnolia. He was dead when Bobby and I got there.”

“You nicked a main artery, miss,” the detective said. “He must have bled out after you left.” He looked away from her. Christ. He really didn’t have the heart for this. The guy’s death was too merciful.

“Am I goin’ to jail?”

The detective turned back his head to observe her. The black woman whose child had been involved had showed him a snapshot of Miss Franklin before he’d left her apartment. It was hard to tell, looking at her now, but she had been beautiful. “No,” he replied. “There will be no charges filed. In addition to your statement, we have knowledge of the restraining order and a report from the ER doctor here on staff. It is my belief that you acted in self-defense and in defense of the child’s life. I just need you to verify a copy of your statement once we have it typed up. When the swelling goes down on your eyes, we’ll need you to come down to the station, read it over, and sign it.” He stood, as did the quiet young man in the corner who had recorded Aunie’s statement. The detective reached out a hand to touch her arm. She gasped and jerked it away skittishly. “Get some rest,” he said.

The policemen left, the door swishing closed behind them.

Aunie started to cry. She was relieved Wesley was dead—oh, God, she was
glad
—yet she felt horrible that he’d died at her hand. She had never willfully
even
hurt
anyone before, let alone been responsible for a death. And yet …

Her emotions were so jumbled she couldn’t have said with any coherency how she felt.

“Shh,” James soothed her, leaning over and brushing her hair away from her face. “Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. It’s all over now.”

Her face turned blindly in his direction. “Jimmy? Could you hold me?”

He climbed onto the high bed with her and gingerly gathered her in his arms. She sighed. It was silent for several moments, then she whispered, “Did they tell you that I’m not pregnant?”

“I already knew. I saw the blood on your pants when the paramedics were taking you out.” He lifted up his head, chin tucked in to look down at her. “Were you?”

“I don’t know. They said it was much too soon to tell. But I can’t shake the feelin’ I was, Jimmy.”

“Aunie?” He hesitated a second, then said, “How did you feel about it? We both got defensive and angry yesterday, and neither of us really said what we thought. I need to know.”

“Oh, James, I felt so mixed up. The thought of being pregnant right then scared me silly. I didn’t think you’d want a baby, and I still have two years of school left.” Her fingers curled in his shirt. “Yet, part of me really wanted to be. I’ve got more than enough money to care for a child and I think I’d be a pretty good mother. And besides”—she yawned hugely— “it was yours.”

“It scared me, too,” James said. “But I would have wanted it, Magnolia. That’s kind of funny, huh? After all my howling about too many responsibilities? But I like the idea of us being a family and I’m really
willing to work hard at it…” His voice trailed away as he realized she had abruptly fallen asleep. He smiled ruefully.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he whispered and kissed the crown of her head. Easing her out of his arms, he climbed off the bed and sat down in the chair next to it. His head tilted against the back of the chair. Gazing up at the ceiling he murmured, “We’ve got all the time in the world to talk now.”