Sins of the Father (26 page)

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Authors: LS Sygnet

Tags: #murder, #freedom, #deception, #illusion, #human trafficking

BOOK: Sins of the Father
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We sat silently with our tentative truce for
a long while.

Finally Johnny spoke. “Are you still
cold?”

“I’m fine now. Do you need your jacket back?
That wind has a little bite.”

“I’m fine.” Johnny perched his elbows on the
table, folded his hands and pressed them to his lips. For once, it
was me feeling his internal debate.

I didn’t intrude.

“Helen,” he said softly, “do you suppose
we’re both calm enough to talk now?”

I refolded my napkin. “I suppose we could at
least try.”

Silence descended again. Johnny started
rocking in his seat.

“I guess I’ll start. The night I found you
in New York, for a moment, it looked like you hesitated. About
getting on that jet.”

I stared at the cliff.

“I wasn’t sure you heard me until you turned
around.”

Sniffle. Dab at the eyes with the
napkin.

“Helen, were you having a hard time
leaving?”

I whispered my reply.

He leaned closer. “I’m sorry, what did you
say?”

“Yes,” I cleared my throat. “Yes. I tried to
tell you.”

I heard the throaty swallow. “Can I ask if
the reason you hesitated had anything to do with me?”

I nodded.

“Yes, I can ask or yes, it had something to
do with me?”

Tears dripped from my chin. “You,” I
said.

“Why did you run away from me?”

“I think that’s obvious. I was out of time.
If I didn’t fix my mistake now, I’d never have another chance.”

Johnny reached for my hand. “I meant why did
you run when you didn’t get on that flight? If I was part of the
reason you couldn’t go –”

“You were coming so fast,” I said. “I was
afraid.”

“Of me?”

“That you would stop Dad from being
free.”

He lifted my hand and pressed it to his
lips. “Doc, how do you really think I knew where to find you?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t mean it when I said
you weren’t a good investigator. You’re really very, very
good.”

“Not that good. You covered your tracks so
well –”

“You knew about Fields.”

His breath fanned the damp spot on the back
of my hand when he chuckled. “I got the name off the rental
agreement in your car. I followed you to that airfield, Helen. Your
father called me early Thursday morning and told me what you
planned to do.”

“He… why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m forever
grateful that he did, and that the man has connections and the
sharpest mind I’ve ever seen. I’d love to take credit for how he
covered your tracks completely, Helen, but I can’t. I had nothing
to do with a missing body at the hospital morgue.”

I pulled my hand away, covered my mouth with
both. “Oh my God. That’s what he meant.”

“What?”

I sobbed so hard my body shook.

“Helen…?”

I wiped my face with open palms. “When you
called my name, I thought I was imagining it. A trick of the mind,
because leaving you like that was killing me. I thought he was
asking me
if
it was you. He knew it was. I turned around and
saw you. He told me to get on the flight. I turned back and looked
at him. He smiled at me and said,
I had to be sure. Go to
him
.”

“Dangerous gamble.”

“I think he let me give him freedom because
it mattered to me, not to him.”

“David is right. Wendell loves you like no
one else.” Johnny pulled a key from his pocket and reached for my
ankle. One hand slid up my calf. He unlocked the monitoring device,
and dropped it on the table before he reached for my left hand. He
tugged the wedding band off my finger.

“Johnny –”

“Shh. He loved you enough to accept freedom
he didn’t necessarily want. I love you enough to give you the
freedom you
do
want.

“I think it’s been a long haul for both of
us. You should turn in. I’ll clean up.” He leaned in and brushed
his lips against my cheek. “Goodnight, Helen.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 24

It was pre-dawn when I woke. My stomach
rumbled in protest over the long stretch it suffered without being
filled. That was the easy problem to solve. Even in sleep, I hadn’t
been able to stop thinking about what happened last night.

Free again. I wasn’t sure how I felt about
that. Particularly in light of the fact that there was another huge
lie hanging over my head. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. A
couple hours of peace, communicating without words layered in razor
wire had been welcome. To tell the truth now, to risk that peaceful
cloud that shrouded our home seemed a gamble I wasn’t ready to
take.

My heart was firmly in the driver’s seat. It
ignored the warnings from my brain that if Sanderfield or whoever
was behind what
actually
happened to me a month ago were
caught, the truth would come out anyway. There was no second
attempt to kidnap me. I used it as a convenient excuse to slip away
and rescue my father, to answer the nagging questions about which
of my parents was responsible for stealing me as a newborn.

I crawled out of bed and stretched mightily.
Shivers raised the tiny hairs on my arms. Why was it so chilly in
here? The curtains billowed out from the windows of my bedroom.
Johnny must’ve come in and opened them after I fell asleep.

My bedroom door was open too, along with
every other window in the house. The noxious paint fumes were gone.
I plodded through the gallery toward the guest room. The door was
open. Cheery baby-chick yellow paint was completely dry on the
walls.

It was a room that truly radiated warmth and
love now. I closed the windows and started to complete the task
around the rest of the main floor. So chilly! I grabbed my thick
fuzzy robe in the bedroom and dug out a pair of fluffy slippers
from the closet.

Interest in something beyond myself and the
bitterness in which I wallowed for weeks sparked anew in my heart.
I flung open the front door and walked down the driveway. Just
inside the gate was the opaque blue plastic bundle covered in dew.
I shook the bag and sent the droplets spraying to the concrete
before returning to the house with the morning paper.

One look at the headline reminded me why I
preferred to ignore the media.

Darkwater Bay reacts to OSI
closure
.

Fabulous. I could hardly wait to read
it.

I prolonged the explosion of temper by
brewing a pot of coffee and rummaging through the refrigerator.
Eggs. Bacon or sausage? Both. I moved to the pantry and retrieved
the ingredients for homemade biscuits. Mmm. Buttered flakey dough
swimming in warmed honey.

My belly fluttered its approval, lower than
the stomach. I chuckled and paused for a soft caress. “Good
morning, angels. Are you telling me that you’re going to be born
with Mommy’s sweet tooth?”

Tiny punch in response.

“Good boys.”

I decided to allow the aroma of breakfast to
rouse Johnny and settled on a stool at the bar after it was tucked
into the oven to keep it warm. The morning paper stared up at me,
daring me to go ahead and read it.

Sure it was a mistake, I didn’t resist the
siren’s call anyway. I started reading. For the most part, the
article made me laugh at the outrage poor Collangelo brought on
himself. His action, according to two editorial pieces, smacked of
caving in to pressure from the other side.

What truly interested me was the public
outcry from Darkwater Bay specifically. Comments like,
it’s a
tax bill that was actually worth something. Closing OSI was the
biggest mistake this state could’ve made. Leave it to our
politicians to back-track from doing the right thing.

Johnny shuffled into the kitchen and
scratched his belly. “Mmm. Something smells good.” He poured a cup
of coffee. “Unleaded?”

“No. Coffee gives me an acid stomach first
thing in the morning. That pot is for you.”

He sipped, hummed his approval and put the
cup on the counter. A bone popping stretch followed. “Did you
already eat?”

I shook my head. “It’s warming in the oven.
Do you want to shower first or eat now?”

A faint smile curled the corners of his
mouth. “Knowing you these days, the correct answer is eat now.” He
gestured to the newspaper. “How bad is it?”

“For Joe? Terrible. For you and OSI, it’s
great.”

“Well, at least the people we tried to
protect appreciated our effort. I suppose that counts for
something. Maybe.”

I slid off the stool and rounded the island.
“Take your coffee, sit down with the paper and read it for
yourself. I’ll get breakfast on the table.”

“You don’t have to do this, Helen.”

“I know,” I said. “Speaking of knowing me,
since when do I ever do anything that I don’t want to do?”

“Good point.”

I set the table around him, poured a carafe
of mango-orange juice, and warmed a small dairy pitcher filled with
honey in the microwave oven. Plates piled with bacon, sausage,
scrambled eggs and biscuits followed. Last, I brought small bowls
of salsa, sour cream and black olives to the table.

Johnny’s eyebrows twitched.

I shrugged. “Sudden craving for spicy
eggs.”

He folded the paper and set it aside. Johnny
watched me heap my plate with food. He shook his head and chuckled.
“I love seeing you eat this way. I doubt Dr. Harvey will be worried
the next time you step on the scale.”

“Are you calling me fat?” I mumbled around a
sausage link.

“No, I’m telling you that it’s not possible
for you to lose weight with at long last, a normal, healthy
appetite. The only weight it looks like you’ve gained is baby.
Babies.”

“I think I felt a kick this morning,” I
said.

Johnny’s eyes widened. “Really?
Already?”

“A tiny one, maybe. We were talking about
them inheriting my sweet tooth.”

His gaze and smile melted my heart.

“You talk to them?”

“All the time. Do you think that’s
silly?”

“No,” he said. “Maybe you’ll let me talk to
them sometime.”

“Of course.”

We finished breakfast with a sense of calm
quiet. While I cleaned up, which basically included finishing off
the last of the bacon before loading the dishwasher, Johnny went
off to shower and get ready for work. The freedom he gave me
weighed heavily on my mind.

I didn’t trust Sanderfield. His face stared
at me from the front page of the Sentinel. Andy Gillette’s words
had yet to cease haunting me. And just because I staged an
abduction didn’t mean that Gillette lied about how I was viewed by
him, his gang and at least one other person in the world. Somebody
believed they had the right to strip me of my freedom.

I started searching the house. Couldn’t find
what I sought anywhere. Finally, I breeched a confidence that
would’ve otherwise risked the tenuous peace under our roof. I
opened Johnny’s briefcase.

It was empty, save for the one item I needed
to find.

“Helen?” This time it wasn’t thrown out like
a militant call to arms.

I snapped the briefcase shut. “In the
office. Are you leaving for work?”

He appeared in the doorway. I tucked the
ankle monitor beside the fax machine out of plain view.

“Yeah.”

My breath hitched in my throat. Would he ask
for my plans today? Lecture about being careful?

“I doubt it’ll be an early night for
me.”

“Do you want me to keep dinner warm?”

“If it’s no bother,” he said. “Well, I just
wanted to say goodbye.”

I stepped forward. “You want to tell the
boys goodbye?”

“Really? Now?”

“If you feel weird about it –”

“No!” Johnny said quickly. “I want to talk
to them.”

I lifted my shirt and bared the growing
bump.

“Wow,” Johnny said. “It’s so much bigger
than it was at Dr. Harvey’s office.”

I pulled his hand against me. Our little
angels jumped in response.

“Oh my God! Was that them? Did they just
move?”

“Yeah,” I said. “They’ve been wide awake
since before breakfast.”

“They sleep?”

“Mm-hmm. They sleep, they wake up, sometimes
it feels like they’re using my bladder as a trampoline.”

Johnny dropped to his knees in front of me.
His hands spread over my abdomen reverently. “Hi babies. It’s
Daddy. I have to go to work, but I wish I could stay home with you
all day. Every day.”

The fluttering stopped. I imagined them
listening intently to their father. “Keep talking, Johnny.”

“I love you so much,” Johnny said. “I love
you, and Mommy loves you –”

It was the hardest kick I’d felt to date. I
smiled.

Johnny’s eyes reddened instantly, and he
stared up at me. “Do you think they heard me?”

“I read an article online the other day.
They think that amniotic fluid actually amplifies sound. I’m sure
they did hear your voice. You know, communication is only seven
percent the words we use. The rest of it is body language and tone.
Scientists have proven that emotion is something people continue to
understand even when they’re unable to communicate in return.” My
fingers ruffled through Johnny’s hair. “They know their daddy’s
voice already, Johnny.”

His fingers slid to my hips and held firm.
Johnny pressed his cheek against me, sniffled. He turned his face
and kissed one side of the slight swell softly, then the other and
let me go. “Thank you, Helen. Thank you for sharing that with me.
You have no idea how much it means to me.”

Oh, I’m pretty sure I did know.

He slowly rose. “I guess I should get to the
office. We’ll be at the penthouse. You know, if you need anything,
or if you’re downtown later and want to pig out with company.”

He reached for his briefcase. I manacled his
wrist.

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