Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(85)

Shake lifted a hand to indicate their baby. “Our baby girl.”

Ronnie sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. “She’s really something.” His voice sounded like it was tinged with real emotion.

“You really think so?” Shake thought she was the most precious thing in the entire world.

“She kind of changes things, doesn’t she?”

Shake’s heart rose about half an inch. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.”

Ronnie picked up Shake’s hand and slowly rubbed his thumb across the back of it. He’d never done that before. Never displayed that kind of tenderness toward her. Up until tonight, he either tended to joke with her, ignore her completely, or treat her as a sex toy.

“You know the other day? When you were trying to get away?” he asked.

Shake nodded.

“Maybe you had the right idea.”

Shake held her breath. “Really?”

Ronnie nodded. “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe we do deserve a better life. All of us.”

“All three of us?” Shake asked. She wanted to make sure they were talking about the same thing.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mom’s not . . . she’s not that good for us.”

Shake gave a little shiver of disgust. “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Ronnie said. “She doesn’t much think about you.” He made a face, as if he knew he was being disloyal, but couldn’t help it. “She only thinks about what’s good for her. What makes her happy.”

“You wouldn’t miss her?” Shake asked. This was a big step, a huge step for Ronnie. She wanted to be sure.

“Naw.” Then he reconsidered. “Well, maybe. At first anyway. But once we figured stuff out on our own, I think we’d be okay.”

“I know we’d be okay,” Shake said. Her voice dropped to practically a whisper and she asked, “When?”

“When you feel better,” Ronnie said. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day.”

“I feel good now,” Shake said, snuggling closer to him.

“You have to rest,” Ronnie told her. “Eat a little something, then sleep some more. You need to get your strength back.”

But Shake didn’t want Ronnie to go. “I was scared you didn’t want us,” she said. “That you didn’t want to be a dad.” She was having trouble wrapping her head around this new improved Ronnie, this seemingly more responsible Ronnie.

“We’re a family,” Ronnie said. “We’ll do whatever we have to do.” He stood up and smiled at her. “We’ll run away. Live by our wits like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I like that.” Shake had watched the movie on TV a few weeks ago and the notion that she could be a modern-day Bonnie Parker appealed to her.

“The three of us,” Ronnie murmured, looking almost dreamy now.

“What about that other baby?” Shake asked. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Ronnie’s smile slipped a notch. “I think . . . Mom has plans for her.”


*

MARJORIE was standing at the bottom of the steps, waiting for Ronnie.

“What the hell were you doing up there all this time?” she asked. She was wearing her pseudo-nun’s outfit, but she was chugging a Budweiser straight from the can.

Ronnie shrugged. “I took her the food.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“We were just talking.”

“Just talking,” Marjorie mimicked. “Talking about what?” She was afraid the baby might have given Shake a slight hold over Ronnie. Couldn’t let that happen.

“Nothing important.” Ronnie started to turn away. He’d felt good talking to Shake about the baby. He’d felt more grown up, more like a man than he ever had before. Just talking about a new life together helped pull him out of his dark, scary places.

Marjorie leered at him. “You better get your head in the game, kid. There’s gonna be some big changes around here.”

Ronnie stopped in his tracks and swung around to stare at his mother. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“Forget about that girl upstairs,” Marjorie hissed. “Forget about the baby. Your baby . . . and that other kid. They’re going to be out of here first thing next week.”

“Don’t you dare . . . do anything,” Ronnie growled. His mother thought there were going to be changes? Well, there certainly might be. Little did she know that he’d be the one making those changes.

“I do whatever I damn well please,” Marjorie said. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She spun away from him and walked into her studio.

Ronnie stood in the hallway waiting patiently. Waiting for his mother to scream. It didn’t take long.

There was an ear-piercing shriek followed by Marjorie’s plaintive wail. “What have you done to my Glynnis doll? How could you? How dare you!”

Marjorie rushed back out into the hallway, her face white as a sheet, her jaw working frantically, teeth practically gnashing the air. In her hands she carried an eighteen-inch baby doll. The doll was dressed in a pale peach organza dress with a white Peter Pan collar and puffy sleeves. Where its little head used to be, a bloody fox head had been impaled.