Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(81)

And suddenly, unexpectedly, my eyes filled with tears. I ducked my head, not wanting Radar, let alone Mick in the control room, to see me cry. Oh my God, where were we going from here? We didn’t need Z and his prison cells and orange jumpsuits to break us. We’d done it to ourselves, ensconced in our luxurious Boston town house, going through the everyday motions of our extremely privileged lives. Once a real family, now three mere clichés. The pill-popping wife, the unfaithful husband, the pregnant teenage daughter.

Justin seemed fixated on our rescue as some sort of magical switch. Our kidnappers would deliver us in return for the insurance money, and that would be that. We’d click our heels three times, whisper there’s no place like home and instantly wake up in our own beds. Justin would go back to work. Ashlyn would go back to school, and I’d…

I’d visit a methadone clinic and get my addiction under control? Or say f*ck it, and rush back to my lovely orange bottle of pills first chance I got?

I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know, and for a moment, the thought of going home, of returning to our real lives with all the unsolved problems…it terrified me.

At least in here, we knew who the enemy was. Whereas, once we were home…

Beside me, Ashlyn suddenly jerked awake. Her hazel eyes flew open, panic written all over her face. “Mom!”

“It’s okay. I’m here. Shhh…”

“Oh, Mom…” I could tell the second she finished coming round, as her hands dropped down automatically, cupping her tender stomach. She gazed at me a long time, her expression still young, but already older than I wanted it to be.

“I know, honey,” I murmured. “I know.”

“Don’t tell Dad,” she whispered, the words nearly automatic.

I had to smile, but it was a sad expression on my lips. “He’ll always love you, sweetie.”

“No, he won’t. He has standards,” she said, and her tone was clearly bitter.

I didn’t know what to say about that, so I resumed my bedside vigil. A daughter who had kept her mother’s secret. And now a mother charged with keeping her daughter’s secret.

“I’ll…um…grab a new jumpsuit,” Radar muttered, clearly uncomfortable. He exited, leaving us once more unsupervised and unshackled.

Merely trapped in our own self-induced misery.

I brushed the tears from my daughter’s cheek and we waited, together, for the worst of our pain to ease.


WE COULDN’T HIDE IN MEDICAL FOREVER. Z must have demanded an update. Upon hearing that Ashlyn was stable enough, it was back to the family cell for us. Radar walked on one side of Ashlyn, I took the other. She moved gingerly but didn’t require much support. To be fifteen again, so young and fixable.

Her footsteps slowed as we entered the cavernous dayroom.

I didn’t blame her. Justin had never been one to run from a fight. Sure enough, the cell door barely clanking shut behind us:

“I want to know his name.” Justin rose to standing in the middle of the tiny space, arms crossed over his chest, voice stern and cold. Not asking, but demanding.

Ashlyn pulling her arm away from me, bringing up her chin. “Maybe his last name is Chapman. As in your girlfriend’s younger brother. He’d be about my age, right?”

My eyes widening, just as my husband paled.

Justin whirled on me. “How dare you tell her—”

“I didn’t.”

“I did!” Ashlyn, in full glory now, arms flung out, thin body nearly levitating with hostility. “I checked your phone, Dad. I read your e-mails. Quite a little exchange you had with a girl young enough to be my sister. Wonder what her father would think. Maybe she’s not supposed to sleep around, either. Maybe, she was also supposed to wait for a boy who would honor her and love her and respect her. You know, all that crap you used to feed me, before running out the door to cheat on your family. Hypocrite! Fucking liar!”

“Ashlyn!” Myself, stepping quickly between my daughter and my husband, as if that might keep Ashlyn safe.

Justin’s face, already terribly misshapen, had taken on the color of eggplant. Steam should have been pouring out of his ears. Certainly, every blood vessel in his body appeared ready to burst.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that, young lady!”

“Or what?”

“Stop.” My voice came out too shaky. I cleared my throat, forced myself to sound more forceful. “Both of you. Take a second.”

Ashlyn, turning on me now. “Why? You afraid I’m going to tell him about your drug problem.”

“What?”

I wanted to laugh. I understood it would be wildly inappropriate. But the sheer rage on my daughter’s face, followed by the sheer bewilderment on Justin’s. I wanted to giggle. Except I was pretty sure the first hiccuping laugh would lead straight to tears.

Ashlyn, still on a rampage: “Jesus Christ, Dad. She’s been stoned out of her mind for months now. The glazed-over eyes? The way you ask her a question and it takes a full minute before she answers? I mean, come on, Dad. It took me two weeks to figure out she was abusing prescription painkillers. I’m a kid. What the hell is your excuse?”

Justin, officially too stupefied to speak. Me, a hand now clasped over my mouth because, heaven help me, any second now, I was going to burst into hysterics.