The Birthday List(89)

“Yes.” I smiled. “Come on, I’m parked out back.”

I told Helen I was taking Belle home and left her in charge of the restaurant while I grabbed my coat from the office. When I opened the back door, the cold air hit me hard in the face and it only took seconds for my nose and ears to sting. I had no idea how far away Belle lived, but just a block in this weather and she would have turned into an icicle.

“I like your truck,” Belle said as she climbed inside, running a hand along the leather seat.

“Thank you.” I turned the key and fired up the heat. “So where to?”

Belle gave me directions as we drove, and as we got closer and closer to a sketchy part of town, the knot in my stomach tightened. Had she been walking home in the evenings all this way? Through this neighborhood? We were miles from the restaurant. We were miles from her school.

By the time I pulled into her trailer park, I’d made a decision. Molly didn’t need to pick a stranger to receive a free car.

I was buying a vehicle for Belle.

“It’s the last one on the right.” She pointed down the dead-end road that led through the trailer park.

Belle’s arms were wrapped around her belly as she huddled against the door. She did not want me seeing where she lived. The only reason she was letting me drive her home was utter desperation.

Just as the last trailer down the road came into view, Belle’s arms shot out. “Stop!”

I slammed on the brakes, jolting us both forward. “What?” I turned to her for an explanation.

“Can you just park here for a sec?”

“Um . . . sure.” I pulled to the side of the road.

Her trailer was three down from where we were parked, close enough to see the siding was falling apart and two of the windows were covered with plywood. I was assessing the shiny black car out front—one that was much too expensive for the owner of that trailer—when a man stepped through Belle’s front door.

The guy was tall, kind of lanky, and had perfectly styled dark hair. If not for the cigarette in his mouth, I’d consider him good-looking. Was that Belle’s dad? If it was, why wouldn’t she want to go home before he left? “Do you not want your dad to see that I drove you home?”

She shook her head. “That’s not my dad. That’s his friend Tommy.”

The color drained from her face as Tommy got into the shiny black car. She didn’t have to say anything for me to know she was terrified of him. The air in the truck turned cold with fear.

As Tommy pulled away from her house, Belle covered her belly and ducked down low below the dashboard. Only when Tommy had raced past us and his engine could no longer be heard in the trailer park did she finally sit back up.

“What’s going on?”

She didn’t answer as she stroked her baby bump.

Something was wrong. This entire situation screamed wrong. The hairs at the back of my neck were prickling, telling me that things were far worse for Belle than I could have ever imagined.

And I suspected Tommy was the cause.

I reached across the bench and put my hand on her shoulder. “Who is that Tommy guy?”

She stroked her belly without an answer.

“Um . . . do you have a boyfriend?”

She shook her head.

Damn it. That meant I couldn’t skip my next question. “Belle, whose baby is that?”

She kept her eyes down and I was sure she wouldn’t answer, but then she looked up and squared her shoulders. “Mine. This baby is mine.”

That baby was Tommy’s. She didn’t have to say his name for me to guess the truth. And given her obvious fear, I was also guessing that her child hadn’t been conceived with her consent.

“If something is happening with that guy, if he’s hurting you, then we need to go to the police.”

She shook her head. “No. It will only make things worse.”

“Belle, you—”

“No!” She cut me off. “No.”

I sighed. “What about your parents?” Did they even know she was pregnant?

“I just live with my dad and he’s gone a lot. He’s kind of out of it.”

I ran a hand over my forehead. What was I going to do? I’d just met this girl, but I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing to help. If she was being abused by one of her dad’s friends, she couldn’t continue to live in that trailer. She certainly couldn’t bring a baby into that trailer.

“Is there anyone else you could stay with?” Anyone with health insurance so she could see a damn doctor?

She shrugged. “My grandma lives in Oregon, and I could probably live with her but I don’t have any money. My dad, um . . . he usually needs it.”

If money was all she needed, I’d gladly pay her way to Oregon. She could go by plane. Or by bus.

By car.

A plan rushed through my mind as I put the truck back in drive and steered us the rest of the way to her house.

When I parked and shut off the ignition, her hand shot out again. “You don’t need to come inside!”

I took her hand in mine and squeezed. “It will go faster if we both pack your stuff.”

“What?”

“Come on.” I opened my door. “You’re going to Oregon.”