Keep Her Safe(31)

Noah grins. “That’s not so bad.”

“Says who?” I chuckle, remembering those awkward teenage years when I pursed my lips together to keep myself from smiling wide. “Don’t you worry. You’ll be thankin’ your lucky stars later, when all the girls are chasing you.” Noah’s going to be one heck of a handsome man when he grows up. I try to keep my voice neutral when I ask, “Listen, your mom around?”

“Out back.”

“Why don’t you hang in front here for a few minutes and practice that jump shot. I need to talk to your mom alone. It’s about work.” I don’t want Noah anywhere near where he can overhear. He doesn’t need to be the wiser.

“Yes, sir.” Noah leans over to grab his basketball, which is resting on the floor next to the door and within easy reach, as always.

“Good boy.” I ruffle his hair once more as I pass by him.

I find Jackie in the backyard, cutting back dead branches that the winter left behind. I’ve always found it to be a contradictory passion of hers. I’d never peg her to be the type to fuss over pretty, girly things, too busy fussing over collecting career stripes. If there’s one thing everyone can agree on about Jackie Marshall, it’s that she has her sights set high in the police force.

She sees me coming and casts away the handful of debris, wariness filling her face. Her bag-lined eyes drift behind me to the patio door. Checking for Noah, no doubt.

Whatever calm that boy incited in me quickly vanishes, as thoughts of last night resurface with a vengeance.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Because I am. You shouldn’t have been there. None of that should have happened.” She’s choosing her words carefully, her lips twisting as if she’s tasting something bitter in her mouth.

“But it did happen!” I lower my voice, knowing it’ll carry far around this peaceful neighborhood, especially at this time of morning. “Where is she?” I enunciate each word as calmly as I can.

Jackie hesitates. “She doesn’t want to be found, Abe.”

“Bullshit. I saw the look on her face.”

“And I heard the words coming out of her mouth when she told me she wasn’t going anywhere with me.” She stoops to collect a loose branch, avoiding my hard gaze.

Which tells me that there’s either more to the story or she’s altogether lying, because when Jackie Marshall’s telling you how it is, she could stare down paint until it peels right off the wall.

“You should have gotten her out of there anyway. Hell, I should never have listened to you in the first place! You manipulated me!” I can’t believe I let her pull rank. I can’t believe I trusted her.

God, what would Dina think if she knew!

“What was I supposed to do, Abe? What would you have done in my position?”

“The right thing!”

Jackie whips the pair of shears she’s gripping tight at the ground. The sharp end spears the dirt. “Well, no one’s arguin’ that you’re a better person than most, Abe. You deserve a goddamn medal, just for being born.”

“I don’t need a medal. What I need to do is find Betsy, and you’ve made sure that’s gonna be next to impossible.” I’ve never hurt a woman and I never will, but dammit, my fingers around Jackie’s neck would feel satisfying right about now, even just for a second.

“I’m sorry, Abe. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I just didn’t see any other choice.”

“You mean another choice that would benefit you.” I shake my head. “As far as you and I go? We’re done. Got it?” I spin on my heels, needing to get the hell out of here before I really lose my temper.

“Try The Lucky Nine,” she calls out, reluctance in her voice.

“What?”

“The Lucky Nine. It’s out by the highway. I told you I’d follow her and I did. That’s where she went.”

“And that’s where you left her. A fifteen-year-old girl.”

At least Jackie has the decency to look ashamed.





CHAPTER 12


Grace

“You’ll be in rooms 240 and 241. They share an adjoining door,” the bubbly front-desk receptionist says with a smile. I’m sure she smiles at every customer, but I doubt like that. Like she wants to hop over the desk and throw her giggly self at Noah.

I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s tall and built and, now that I don’t think he’s one of the skeevy guys pumping my mother full of heroin, I can appreciate his angular jaw and his full mouth, and every other detail that makes it hard not to stare at him. He doesn’t fit the preppy-rich-boy image that I accused him of, but he definitely does have the well-put-together thing going for him.

And if I had to guess, this girl—with her fluttering fake eyelashes and French-tipped nails and skin as smooth and creamy as a porcelain doll—is exactly his type.

Either oblivious or used to the attention, Noah merely offers her a “thanks” as he slides his credit card into his wallet, his arms naturally flexing with the movement. I didn’t think he was serious about getting me my own room, but I plan on leaving as soon as I have my hands on whatever he has for me anyway.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” the clerk asks, tucking a strand of her silky blonde hair behind her ear.