Replacing Gentry (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

T
he wipers swept the windshield, repeating one clean swipe after another. My eyes tracked the movement, the rhythmic motion lulling me into a temporary state of calm.

Johnny took a few more turns, slowed, and pulled into the driveway of a Craftsman-style house. I squinted through the rain-spotted window at the structure. Homey, it had a deep front porch with white rockers on one side, a comfy-looking porch swing on the other and multiple hanging baskets overflowing with flowers along the front.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Navigating the thin driveway with a confident ease, he said, “Home sweet home.” He pulled the car into a detached garage and killed the engine. Before he extinguished the lights, I caught sight of a sleek little Porsche and a Harley motorcycle.

“This is where you live?” I asked, skeptical. “I thought you lived downtown in a trendy condo or something.”

“Actually, it’s a loft, but this place is where I come when I don’t want to be bothered.” He came around to my side, opened the door and reached down to help me out. “Sooner or later they’ll catch up to us here, but hopefully not before we’ve made other arrangements.”

“I see,” I said to Johnny’s casual insinuation that my life on the run was only just beginning. “How much time do you think we have? I mean, you
were
the last person to see me, won’t they suspect that you were the one who helped me escape?”

Johnny took me by the hand and led me along a stone path and up a few wooden steps to a screened-in back porch. “I estimate we have about twelve hours, give or take.” He unlocked the door and then stood back for me to enter. “After you went into the stairwell, I continued on to the men’s room before going back to your room where I found—to my complete aghast—that you were gone.” He flipped a switch and the room was bathed in soft light.

I looked around at a small kitchen, renovated and functional with granite countertops, painted wood cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. Johnny tossed his keys to the counter. The sound startled my attention back to what he was saying.

“That’s why it took me so long. I had to make sure to give you enough time to find my car before the cops and security started lookin’ for you while not enough time for them to make their way to the parkin’ garage, then wait until there was enough commotion to slip away,” he said as he headed out of the kitchen.

I followed him through a dining area with walls painted in a deep red.

“Breaking one out of police custody is tricky business,” he added.

Again, I puzzled over Johnny’s motivations. Sure, deep down inside, most men wished they were brave and invincible. But how many had the guts to pull off a real life escape? And do so with so much panache?

“And yet you’re so good at it,” I said, following him into an adjoining living room where he switched on a table lamp.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he evaded, giving me a wink. He turned a knob, igniting the flame of a brick fireplace.

“Uh huh,” I hummed through pursed lips, and then glanced around, taking in my surroundings.

Minimal but tasteful, the furnishings consisted of weathered wood, metal, and leather with small splashes of color, and a few well-placed pieces of unique artwork, atop a beautiful hardwood floor. Modernized while retaining its original charm, Johnny’s hideaway was exactly the type of house I’d always dreamed of owning.

“Still, what if they track us here before we can come up with a plan?” I asked.

“Well, that’s the beauty of an old house. It has a lot of cool hidin’ places.” He gave me a sneaky look as he walked over to a coat closet just off the main living room. Opening the door, he reached under the top shelf. I heard a click. The back wall popped back, and after a gentle push, swung open. “Voila,” he said. “If anyone comes, just duck in here and no one will be the wiser.”

I stepped in for a closer look. My fear of confined spaces sent a shiver of dread down my spine. “There’s a release latch on the other side isn’t there?” I asked, stopping just shy of the threshold. “Or is this how you catch unsuspecting women? That’s not a torture chamber, or some other sordid devise for misogyny, is it?”

The smile Johnny gave me was nearly shy. “No, there’s nothin’ misogynistic about it. And yes, there is a latch to get out.” He reached in to pull the false wall closed again. “The people who owned this home before me made their living, let’s say, the non-traditional way, so they used it to hide their stash of money among other items of a paraphernalia nature.”

He swung the closet door closed as he pinched an invisible reefer between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it to his lips. “Warning, don’t stay in there too long unless you bring a snack. Munchies, you know.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember to swing by the kitchen while I’m frantically racing to hide for my life.”

Johnny pointed toward the darkened hallway. “Down that way you’ll find the bathroom, study, and bedrooms. And the kitchen, as you know, is back there.” He indicated where we’d come in. “I guess that completes the ten-second tour. Any questions?”

I didn’t answer. A brass-framed wall mirror in the entryway had captured my attention, and I moved in for a closer look. My fingertips rose to touch the purplish bruise high over my left cheekbone. A blood-red gash sliced down the middle and was held together by two butterfly strips. My eye was swollen and shadowed all the way around.

“I look . . . I look . . . like . . .” I couldn’t say what. The sight was so grotesque, it made me sick to look at it while I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away.

Johnny took hold of my wrist and turned me from the mirror. “You look perfect.” He swept his knuckles lightly over my cheek. “So absolutely perfect,” he echoed, his eyes revealing a look of empathy.

I reached up and took his hand, pressing the warmth of his palm to my cheek. The feel of his skin against mine penetrated like a balm to my frenzied nerves. “You’re lying but I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, allowing my eyes to slide shut over the tears pooling there.

“Darlin’ I would never lie to you.” He smiled. “Besides, I think it’s kinda sexy,” he added with the flit of a wink.

“
Sexy?
” I croaked. “It’s going to leave a terrible scar.”

Tracing his fingers along my jaw, he said, “Yeah, and a scar will make you look a little edgy—dangerous.” His gaze dropped to my parted lips. “Like I said, sexy.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” I said, suddenly feeling out of sorts. Up to this point, my only concern had been getting away from that hospital. Now here I was
alone
with Johnny, in his house, and with the way he was touching me, comforting me, it all felt very intimate.

He must have sensed my apprehension, because he dropped his hand, turned and headed for the kitchen. “You want some tea?” he yelled over his shoulder but didn’t wait for me to answer. “Make yourself at home.”

Crossing my arms around my chest to stifle the chill brought on by his absence, I took a closer look around. There were no family pictures or personal photos of any kind, not even one of his children, yet the space was inviting—comfortable.

“So, where do you want to go?” he called back.

“Go?”

“Yeah to hide until we can prove your innocence.”

Exhaustion pushed behind my eyes. “Alaska. I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska,” I said, flippantly naming the first place that came to mind.

Kicking the clogs from my feet and curling my legs beneath me, I slumped onto the weathered leather of his sofa. I pulled a down-filled throw pillow into my lap, hugged it tight to my chest, and stared at the fire. The flames licked up then fell back in what looked like a constant struggle to grow taller.

Johnny must have removed his boots because his feet made little sound as he padded back into the room. “Here you go,” he said, holding out an oversized steamy mug. “You take your tea with only honey, right?”

“How’d you know?” I wrapped both hands around the heated ceramic and took my first sip. The tea soothed my raw throat. “Peppermint, my favorite,” I said, thanking him with my eyes over the rim.

He eased down onto the sofa, a safe distance away from me, and set a bottle of wine down on the coffee table. “So, you want to talk about what happened?” he asked pouring himself a glass.

I laid the warm mug against my bruised face. “It all started with Gentry.”

“Gentry,” he repeated, her name slipping through his lips in a way that made me wonder how much she had meant to him.

“Were you sleeping with her?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Johnny’s mouth fell open. “Just come right out and ask, why don’t you?” he said with an uncomfortable snort. “And no, I wasn’t. Not that I didn’t try—she was very beautiful—but Gentry wasn’t like that. She never would have cheated on Daniel.”

“Did you give her drugs?”

He choked on the sip he was taking. “Good gracious!” he said, wiping the red spatters of wine from his lips with the back of his hand. “You’re just full of loaded questions tonight, aren’t you?” He set his glass down next to the bottle.

“Well?”

“No. She wasn’t takin’ drugs . . . that I knew of, anyway. She was drownin’, though, under the weight of her life, her fight for school fundin’, societal pressures, and tryin’ to be the perfect mother. And that didn’t even include Daniel’s expectations. So it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she was takin’ somethin’. When she came to me for help, I could tell she was tired of it all. But then excited too that this benefit might actually achieve somethin’. She wanted to make it an annual thing. Her accident was an unfortunate turn of events for both her and the schools.”

“You think she died in that car crash?” I asked, and then bit down on my lip. I knew if Johnny was going to help me I would have to divulge what I’d learned from Daniel’s files, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Yeah, don’t you?” he said, and then took a closer look at my guilty face. “Marlie? What are you thinkin’? What do you know, or think you know?”

I took another sip of tea and a closer look at Johnny. The way he looked at me made me think he knew more than
he
was saying.

“I need you to start at the beginning and tell me everything right up to Paul’s death,” he said.

I listened a moment to the light patter of rain against the windows. “Do I have to?”

Johnny edged closer. “Afraid so. If I’m goin’ to help you, I’ll need to know everythin’.”

I started with the moment I’d come home from dropping the boys at camp and overheard Daniel and Paul in the study, including the part where Daniel said he was going to “take care” of me, then about the file and the stolen documents, ending with Paul knocking me to the ground. Leaving out the part about Paul being the leader of the Iphiclesians, I concluded with the one detail that made it all the more unbelievable.

“His eyes,” I said, my mind falling deeper into the tapping of the rain, allowing the sound to wash over me, taking with it the implausible. “I’d never noticed before, but they were different colors. He must have been wearing contacts all the time or something. He’s . . . not really Paul.” I closed my eyes and shook against the memory.

“Seems impossible, doesn’t it?” Johnny said in a stoic voice.

My eyelids snapped open. “You know what he was, don’t you?”

Johnny’s gaze avoided mine. “I do, but how do you?”

I glanced down at the gold ring circling his pinky and shrugged.

“I see,” he said, settling back against the couch. “You’ve been very busy during the short time you’ve been here in Nashville, haven’t you?” He rested his arm on the back of the sofa. “Marlie, do you believe in forgiveness? In redemption?” he asked. “In second chances?”

Looking away, I set my tea aside. “Sure. The Bible says we have to forgive in order to be forgiven,” I said, giving him the stock, Sunday school answer. “We all make mistakes, do and say things we wish we could take back.” That last part, I wholeheartedly believed. “I don’t think it’s right to hold a grudge. Doing so only poisons the soul, keeps us from finding peace—happiness.”

Johnny’s gaze drifted off across the room. “But what about the unforgiveable. What about when we’ve done somethin’ that can never be taken back?” He brought his eyes back to mine. “Can you forgive somethin’ like that?”

All of sudden, it felt as though his questions had shifted from general inquiries to a desire for something much more personal.

“I would hope that I’d do my best,” I said, breaking away from his intense gaze to fiddle with the fringe around the pillow resting in my lap. “It takes too much effort to hold onto anger. I would think that the more severe the offense, the more need there would be to let it go—to forgive.”

“Do you believe that some people belong together.” He reached over to finger a loose strand of my hair. “That we all have our perfect match?”

“Like love at first sight?” I asked, and he gave me a slow nod. “Sure.” I wrapped my arms around the pillow and pulled it to my pounding chest. “But holding onto that person might be a different story.”

“Destiny is a funny thing, isn’t it? The way it calls to everyone, guidin’ them without their knowledge, or even permission, to their fate.”

“I wish fate would take a rest for a while,” I said, not having the faintest idea where Johnny was going with this. Then exhaustion pressed in on me like an insistent voice saying,
You’re getting sleepy, very sleepy
. “You said ‘them’ like fate’s malicious intentions don’t apply to you, like you have destiny all figured out.” I covered a yawn with my hand.

“I have a purpose all right. Though I’m afraid divine intervention has no say in it,” he said.

My mouth stretched open with another yawn. “Could you please save all the cryptic language for a time when I’m better able to process it?”

Johnny pushed up from the sofa. “It’s been a long day, and I should let you get some rest.” He dragged me to my feet then led me down the hallway and into his bedroom. “Tomorrow we’ll get to work on how we’re going to handle this mess you’re in.”

He turned back the covers on a king-sized bed and pushed me down onto the mattress. Covering me in what I’d come to know since my marriage to Daniel as the feel of very expensive sheets, he said, “See you in the mornin’,” in a hushed voice as he folded the bedding over me and reached for the light.