He heard the logic in her words. But he thought they weren’t the words of a fighter. She’d given up on herself. She didn’t think much of herself or her abilities. Perfect prey for someone like Kevin Carr. The sun moved from behind the clouds, and a milky light shone in on them. She turned her face to the window, a flower seeking the sun.
“He was Prince Charming until I got pregnant, every girl’s dream. Handsome, wealthy, intelligent. Beyond that, you never see until it’s too late. It’s not until you get older that you realize only kindness matters, the courage to love and be loved. All the rest of it is a lie.”
In all that time, not a car had passed on the road. No one peeked out from the back of the restaurant to see what she was doing. She seemed small and young. He wanted to take her home and tuck her in somewhere, bring her some tea.
“You want your boy back?” he asked.
She drew in a sharp breath, looked at him with some mingling of hope and fear. “I do.”
He told her about what Paula Carr had said, how she knew that the things Kevin said about Robin couldn’t be true, because Cole was such a good boy. He told Robin how Paula said that Cole was so sad, missed his mother so much.
“It was more than just letting Cole go,” she said. She wiped tears from her eyes with the napkin folded on the table.
“You were afraid of Kevin.”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “It’s not like he gets physical. There’s a strange blankness to him, like he’d be willing to do anything to get what he wants. When he was in my apartment, I was terrified. I couldn’t tell you why. He never threatened me, never put his hands on me.”
Jones knew that it was the blankness that terrifies. When you look into the eyes of the sociopath, either you see the mask or you see the abyss. That’s what’s so frightening, just the absence of anything warm or familiar, anything human.
“Paula was afraid of him, too.” Jones said.
“And now she’s gone,” she said.
Jones felt that angry rise he fought so hard to control. He thought it might be time to pay a little visit to Kevin Carr.
“How long can you stay here?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. She wiped her eyes again. “I’m already living on Patty’s good graces.”
“Well, the service here is excellent,” said Jones. He had a hundred dollars in his wallet, his weekly “allowance.” He gave it to the girl; his wife would find this annoying, but not out of character. Besides, he knew she’d do the same thing.
“I can’t take this,” she said. She pushed it back across the table. But he stood up.
“Just stay here until I call you. This should keep you a couple of nights, right?”
She looked at the money sadly. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and moved toward the door.
“Are you going to bring him back to me?”
He didn’t like to make promises. The world conspired against the heroic statements he often wished he could make. “I’m going to try.”
They both knew it was the best he could do.
chapter thirty
Mercifully, the children slept. It wasn’t late, not yet seven thirty. But they were exhausted. Claire was in her portable crib in the corner of the large room, and Cameron sprawled, belly exposed, on the double bed beside her. The room was okay. Not hideous, clean. She had the shades drawn and the light beside her bed on dim, and she just lay there, looking up at the ceiling. Her parents wanted her to come back home. But she couldn’t do that. She’d taken the children. Legally it was kidnapping. She’d left the family home. There was no evidence of physical abuse. In fact, in their final conflict Kevin had borne the brunt of the injuries. He could say that she’d assaulted him and taken their children. Technically he was right. She had the gun.
It was possible that he had called the police, that even now they were looking for her car. But a kind of numbness had settled over her. She’d been weeping at night after the children went to sleep. The days were hard, drifting from one restaurant to another, finding playgrounds so Cameron could play, nursing Claire in the backseat of the car while Cameron whined and complained in his car seat: Where’s Dad? I want to go back to school. This is the worst vacation ever. Why can’t we go to Disney World again?
But tonight she didn’t have the energy to cry. She had to get strong, think about where they were going. She had a friend in Maine, her old college roommate. They’d reconnected on Facebook last year. Come by and see me anytime you’re in the area! Paula wondered if she’d meant it.
The blue truck had taken Kevin’s right leg out from under him and sent him crashing to the floor. The gun had sailed through the air and landed harmlessly on the couch. She ran for it, but he turned and grabbed her ankle, bringing her heavily to the floor as well, landing hard on her right knee. She heard a snap, ugly and loud, then a rocket of pain up her thigh. He straddled her, sitting on her hips, holding her hands over her head, immobilizing her.
“Paula, let’s talk about this,” he said. The words came through gritted teeth, a horrible grimace.
She turned her face away and started to weep. He was so strong she couldn’t even move her arms.
“Okay,” she said. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at her a moment, suspicious. She tried for a sad smile. And after a moment he released her left arm to wipe the sweat from his face.
“Okay, good,” he said. “I don’t want it to be like this.”
She couldn’t believe how rational, how normal he sounded, as if this were any old argument a married couple might have. He smiled down at her, pitying, sympathetic. She felt a lash of rage, and it was over before she realized that she’d clenched her fist and slammed it against his face, purposely aiming her big diamond ring for his eye. She was thrilled to hear him wail in pain, his weight reeling off her. She ran for the gun. When she turned around with it in her grasp, he was right there. He stepped back, put his hands up. A thick line of blood ran down his face; his eye was red and already swelling. She’d hit him hard. But not hard enough.
“Paula,” he said. “Be reasonable.”
Her voice came out in an unintelligible shriek. “Get away from me!”
She backed up the stairs; the baby’s wailing had reached a fever pitch. It was like a siren in Paula’s head. In slow motion they moved up the stairs, her backing up one step at a time, him pacing her.
“This is not good, Paula,” he said. His voice was a warning. “What are you going to do, huh?”
She took a deep breath, willed her voice calm. No more screaming; it made her feel out of control. She held the gun; she had the power now.
“Don’t make me kill you, Kevin,” she said. “Please. I don’t want to. But I will.”
She wasn’t even sure what he saw on her face or heard in her voice but he stopped in his tracks. She would kill him; he knew it. And he knew she could, too. She knew how to use a gun; her father had taught her. She knew she had a Glock in her hand, a semiautomatic without a safety feature. She knew there was a round in the chamber and nine in the magazine. She was a good shot; she knew to aim at center mass.
He stood in the doorway of the nursery while she gathered the baby in her arms. Claire stopped crying against Paula’s chest, started rooting, rubbing her mouth against Paula’s breast. Her chest ached with engorgement.
“If you let me leave here, I’ll call the bank once I’m safe, and give you access to that account. You can have the money if you let me leave with the kids.”