When the Heart Lies

Chapter 18





Jackson and Jim had been on the road for at least an hour before Olivia began to blow up Jackson’s cell phone with calls. He didn’t answer. She would’ve told him to wait for instruction, and she certainly wouldn’t have approved of Jim going along. He called Xavier to let him know what was happening and asked him to field the information to Olivia. He would get to Kinsley quicker without the bureaucracy of the department. Timing remained critical. From previous experience, he knew that money handed over didn’t always produce the desired outcome.

Jim remained the perfect tagalong: quiet and focused on getting them to their destination.

“Jim, we need to get to the cabin as quickly as we can. Once we get off the interstate, you should take over the driving. You’re familiar with the roads and can travel them faster. I have some water in the cooler in back. We can stop up here at this gas station if you want something, or you need to take a leak. I need to check voicemail before we get to the cabin.” He had no doubt Olivia wanted to string him up by now.

“Yeah, I can drive. Whatever I can do to help.” Jim’s entire face tensed as he fretfully slid his hand up and down his leg. “I wish I’d asked if she was in some kind of trouble with Wayde. Those two are the kind you guys you try to avoid, if you get what I mean.”

Jackson gave him an understanding nod, imagining guys like Jim spent their whole lives p-ssyfooting around guys like Wayde and Remy.

“I sure hope she’s okay, and they end up where they belong.” Not saying anything else, Jim got out of the truck, slammed the door, and headed for the restroom.

Jackson dialed his voicemail while he waited for Jim to return. Ten calls, all from Olivia. He listened to the first message. “What the hell, Jackson, pick up your God damn phone. You’re giving me messages through Xavier now? This is so like you to go off after her half-cocked. Why don’t you let me do my job?”

She must have been at her desk when she phoned because the slam of the receiver sounded undeniably harsh. If she hadn’t left Le Grand immediately after making the call, and he had waited, he’d be four hours away from Kinsley instead of less than two. He looked down at his phone and, click, scroll, click—deleted all of the messages.

~ ~ ~

In the distance, Kinsley watched the scenario—Wayde and Remy clamoring to tell one another about how they would spend their new fortune—her stoically masking her pain and abiding their belligerent ramblings, for the sake of the ruse. With each sip of her brewed retribution, their words slurred. The scene played out like a dewy slow motion film clip. Time began to dragged as the pills began to take effect, and talk became only snippets, caught between their lags in and out of consciousness.

Wayde shook his head, appearing confused. He gave it a more forceful shake, pushed his cup nearer to her, and buried his face into his hands. “I need some more coffee.”

“I’m going to lay down for a bit,” Remy said and staggered like a sloth from the table into his room.

“What?” Wayde watched Remy stumble away. Then turned to her and glared suspiciously. “What the hell is wrong with us?” He wobbled, trying to revive himself. “What’s goin’ on?” His head swayed and dropped at the chin.

She laid her hand against the side of his face as if to comfort him. “This is phase two, darlin’.”

A twinge of fear shone in his eyes. She lifted her hand from his face and returned a fast blow, slapping his head down onto the table. When she imagined this moment, she’d seen herself panicking, running from the cabin, crying hysterically, and searching for someone to rescue her. But the scene wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. She felt strong, clear, and—focused.

She checked for money in Wayde’s wallet and stuffed what little he had into her pocket. Without hesitation, she clutched the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans, put it into his hand, wrapped her hands around his, and fired. She emptied the chamber into the bedroom door. The gun dropped onto the table, and she hurried into the kitchen and lit the portable Coleman stove. She grabbed the heavy iron skillet sitting next to the sink and hurled it into the boarded window directly above the cooking area. The skillet bounced down off the counter, jarred the stove, and fell to the floor with a thud.

She’d seen herself doing this several times after Remy told her Max was dead. It was just like watching a movie as she pulled the propane connection from the stove, making it appear the skillet had compromised the connection unintentionally. Moving much more rapidly, she returned to the table and picked up the pack of Marlboros. She stuffed two in her mouth and lit them. She lifted Wayde’s head, stuck one between his lips, and took a long drag on the other. The one between his lips was merely for kicks. She lit the pack and tossed the burning remains to the floor. When the pack flamed brightly, she tossed the empty carton on top and it ignited. After picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she took a good look around. She’d learned to survive today, on her own. After exiting, she glanced back, closed the door behind her, and began to walk in the direction of the road.

For having no idea where she was, she believed she was in just the right place: the present. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been there. Years had passed her by while she lived for the future or the past, never quite being in the moment. The only emptiness in her was for Max, but the loss didn’t seem tangible. He couldn’t be dead. She would have sensed he was gone.

If she felt Max was dead, she would have stayed with Wayde and Remy and finished the damn cigarette she was choking on. She tossed the thing aside with disgust. The sweltering heat beat down on her, slowing her pace. The sweat sheathing her body was sticky with no breeze to dry it. That, combined with her empty stomach, made her light-headed. About ten minutes later, she heard the explosion; it made her still. She bent at the knees and waist, falling to the ground. Her shaky arms held her up as she puked violently. Raising her head again brought new waves of nausea, but the little content that had been in her stomach was long gone. She sat down by the side of the road and riffled through her bag. Wiping her mouth with a dirty T-shirt, she took a mental note. The next time she had to kill someone, she should stock water for the getaway. After resting a while, she stood, brushed herself off, and continued walking for about an hour. When she could go no further, she sat in the grass on the side of the road, she hurled again, just a little, but still amazed anything at all was left to come up. Then dry heaves, until she lay weak in the grass. This time, when she closed her eyes to rest, she fell asleep from exhaustion.

~ ~ ~

The roads were getting rougher. Jackson and Jim had been on dirt for the last hour. He was glad Jim came along; he may never have gotten this far without him. Nothing was marked. His last conversation with Xavier had been hopeful. Wayde called earlier that morning, and Xavier wired the ransom into the account Angela had set up for him years before. He had also relayed their current GPS positioning to Olivia, and she informed him she would be catching up soon by helicopter.

“How much farther?” He asked Jim.

“Almost to the cabin now. Three miles or so down this road.”

Jim had never asked one question, never reveled in the idea of being involved in a rescue. He was a good guy and a lot smarter than he let on.

“Thanks Jim, for what you’re doing.” Not many people would’ve gotten involved. And if they did, they would’ve gotten in the way.”

They gave each other a man-to-man nod, and Jim drove on.

About a mile down the road, Jackson grabbed the dash and popped his head out the window, peering up into the sky where smoke billowed. “What the hell?”

“Shit, that’s the cabin. I’m almost positive,” Jim exclaimed, stepping on the accelerator.

When Jackson glanced over at Jim, he was mopping the sweat from his brow.

“Stop! We passed something in the road. I think it was a person.”

Jim spun the truck around, doing a one-eighty, and headed back in the opposite direction.

A split second later, Jackson hollered out again. “Right here!”

The truck came to a halt, and they jumped out. The something in the road was Kinsley, passed out cold. Jackson ran to her, taking her into his arms.

“Jim, get some water over here. It looks like she’s been here a while. Kinsley, wake up.” He shook her, but she didn’t rouse. “Kinsley?”

Jim rushed to them and passed Jackson an open bottle of water.

Jackson poured some over Kinsley’s head. “Kinsley, c’mon baby, wake up.” Her eyes opened briefly. “That’s right, open your eyes.” He put the bottle of water up to her lips.

She started to sip and then lifted her hands to the bottle, pouring the water into her mouth and gulping it down. When she’d had her fill, she looked up, squinting from under the visor her hand made. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She stared at him intently then down at herself and back up again, appearing confused and listless. There were no outward signs of physical trauma. Her pupils were equal and reactive. Her speech was fine. He even checked her pulse; it wasn’t weak or rapid. Showing no serious signs of shock, she simply looked exhausted and dehydrated. But the face she was making …

“Kinsley, what’s wrong?”

“I think you’re sitting in my puke.”

Relieved, he laughed softly, wrapped her head his arms, pulled her to his chest, and covered her head with kisses. “Hey Jim, get some blankets from the back, and lay ‘em out in the truck bed.”

Jim laid out the blankets. Jackson picked her up, and Jim hopped up into the truck to take her from his arms and lay her down.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” Jim said.

She opened her eyes, but they began to close again, so she raised her brows to hold the droopy lids open. “Café Jim?”

“Yes ma’am, at your service.”

She smiled as her eyes drifted closed again. He laid her down, and she drifted into a semi-conscious sleep.

Jackson checked her again. The best thing for her was to rest until EMS could evaluate and treat her. Any questions could wait until later. She was safe, and that was all he cared about at the moment. He opened his cell and dialed Olivia. She answered right away. He gave her no time to speak and began filling her in. “Hey, where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day.” He looked at Jim and grinned.

Jim smiled and shook his head.

He went back to the call. “We got her. It looks like she’s going to be all right. But we need EMS and Fire and Rescue out here right away.”

Olivia’s irate voice filled the air. Jackson pulled the phone from his ear letting her vent before ending the call. “I can hardly hear you. Are you in the chopper I hear coming? We’re down the road from the cabin. Yeah, you’re breaking up. We’ll meet you there.” He snapped his phone shut, hopped up into the truck bed with Kinsley, and they headed toward the cabin.

He and Jim leaned against the truck and watched the cabin as it burned. Jackson turned, reached over the side of the truck into the bed, and opened the cooler to get a bottle of water. To his surprise, six beers stuck out from the ice. He peeked at Jim with a question mark glint in his eye.

“I was hoping we’d have something to celebrate,” Jim said and grinned. “Besides, we woulda needed one either way.”

“I like the way you think.” He handed Jim a beer. They cracked them, tapped them and took long, heavy chugs.

Jim tilted his head to the side and took a minute before speaking. “Think anyone’s inside?”

Jackson looked over at Kinsley sleeping in the truck, folded his arms across his chest, and took another long drink of his beer. “Yup.”

~ ~ ~

Within a half-hour, the perimeter swarmed with police, firefighters, the local sheriff, and the Hostage Rescue Team. Kinsley was tucked safely into the air-conditioned ambulance with Jackson at her side. The sheriff deputies clamored to get involved, but Olivia’s charm and the big guns of the Hostage Rescue Team kept them at bay. Olivia organized the personnel and attempted to get into the ambulance to talk to Kinsley and Jackson. An EMT assured Olivia it wouldn’t be long.

Another EMT assured Jackson that Kinsley was physically unharmed, except for the lump on her head that was probably tender. The same EMT started an IV to rehydrate her, and Kinsley began to wake up. Lights and sounds flashed and buzzed around her. Her lids were still heavy, and the stench of thick smoke filled her nostrils. People talked calmly around her, but she couldn’t make out their voices.

Jackson held her hand in his. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked confused, staring questioningly at the EMT first and subsequently at Jackson. She’d been nearly delirious at the roadside.

“Jackson? It’s you?” It was a half statement, half question. “I thought … I thought I was dreaming.” Her eyes bulge. Dread hit her deep inside, so deep. She’d never known the place existed before now. She grabbed both of Jackson’s hands in hers. “What did they do to him?”

“Who?”

“Max.”

He took one of his hands and placed it back down gently over hers. “Max is on a flight home with Jonathan. Wayde left him with Veda. I presume he wanted him out of the way.”

She dropped his hands and slumped back onto her pillow, draping her arm over her eyes to conceal her tears of joy and relief. Jackson handed her a tissue and waited patiently for her to expend her emotions.

“Wayde told me they killed him. That’s why I—”

He put his finger to his lips to shush her and glanced up at the EMT. “Can we have a minute here?”

The EMT opened the back door and jumped out, closing the door behind him. Jackson reached over, locked the door from the inside, and looked at her intently. She’d seen Olivia heading for the ambulance before the door closed.

“So, I was the work you couldn’t talk about at the hospital?” she said.

“Yes, but no time for a lovers’ quarrel now. Self-defense. You thought your life was in immediate danger. Don’t elaborate.”

She opened her mouth to speak.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He wagged his finger across his lips and tilted his head, waiting for agreement.

She nodded just as Olivia yanked the locked door and cursed.

“Open the door, Jackson!”

He reached over and unlocked the door, opening it with curious expression. “How’d that get locked?”

Olivia shot him a cold hard glare. “Save it, Jackson. I need to talk to her.”

He shrugged a shoulder and lifted his hand toward Kinsley as he leaned back with one foot propped against the inner wall of the vehicle.

Olivia shooed him off with a wave. “Alone.”

Once he was gone, the two women took a minute, sizing one another up. She remembered seeing Olivia years ago with Xavier. She didn’t comment. Olivia took a seat on the EMT’s short stool next to her stretcher. While Olivia thumbed through a small notebook, she fought to stay silent and wondered how close she and Jackson were. She shook the thought off. It didn’t matter how close they were, she was going home now. It was obvious she’d only been a case to him. She knew he was too good to be true. He wormed his way right into her heart. He’d had her believing he understood her. But he was paid to listen.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you to go over what happened here so soon.” Olivia frowned, apologetically. “However, questioning is necessary. Simply tell me what happened as clearly as you can.”

Olivia seemed kind. Kinsley told her everything, and some of it was true. She told her Wayde had drunkenly shot at her the previous night. Whether to scare her or kill her, she wasn’t sure. The casings found in the charred aftermath would confirm her account. She said she thought she was going to die, her voice wavering. She explained that she used her prescription pills to drug the two of them once they threatened to kill her. It was plausible that the skillet she told Olivia Wayde had thrown at her jarred the stove. Olivia appeared sympathetic, and as Kinsley expected, her deductive reasoning lead her to assume that was how the propane became compromised. She told Olivia nothing of Wayde’s comments about Angela. Why make things worse by airing family secrets, especially secrets that could only bring suffering. She’d talk to Angela first.

“Okay, well sounds like you covered everything.” Olivia flattened her lips as her head swayed compassionately with the slightest movement side-to-side. “Here’s my card if you need anything. There will be an investigation, and we’ll need to bring you in for further questioning. I’ll let Jackson know when. You’ll have to stay a couple days until we have all the information we need from you. Things may take longer, but we’ll do our best to get you back home as soon as possible. I spoke with Xavier. He’s reserved a hotel suite for you at the Hyatt in Le Grand. He or Nick will be calling you later to arrange for your trip home.” She hesitated before she turned to leave. “Xavier would like Jackson to stay with you. Until Nick comes, he’ll be in an adjoining room.”

Kinsley lowered her eyes. “Of course.” Just what she wanted, to be supervised by a man who must think she’s pathetically needy and delusional. At the same time, she was relieved he’d be close.

Against medical advice and Jackson’s urgings, she chose to forgo an ER visit. Jim hitched a ride back to Le Grand with Olivia, leaving Jackson and her to navigate the awkward ride back.

The weight of the silence bore down. She noticed Jackson taking quick peeks at her, but didn’t let him see her eyes directly, only the reflection of them as she watched the countryside stream by through the window. That’s as far as she could open herself to him right now. She wasn’t surprised by his distance. What could he say? It was evidently clear to him what she’d done. Did he think she was a killer? Was she a killer? Wouldn’t any parent do the same? The questions spun like a cyclone in her head.

The ringing of Jackson’s cell phone interrupted her thoughts and broke the tension. He answered the call. “Hello.”

“Hello, Jackson. How is she?”

Xavier’s voice was low, but audible. She instinctively straightened and turned toward Jackson.

Maintaining her steady gaze as he spoke, Jackson replied, “Quiet.”

“I’d like to speak with her if she’s up to talking.”

Jackson held the phone out to her. She looked down at it, trembled, and eyed him worriedly.

“It’s Xavier.”

She drew a steady breath and put the phone to her ear, unable to make words form.

“Kinsley?”

Her soft breaths carried through the phone.

“Kinsley?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she murmured. His voice sounded like home, making her die a little inside.

“Thank God you’re safe. There hasn’t been a moment you weren’t thought of. You know that, don’t you.”

She didn’t respond.

His words came slowly. “I won’t downplay the ordeal you’ve been through by asking if you’re okay. Nick is at the airport meeting Jonathan and Max. He’ll call you tonight. I haven’t been able to tell him you’ve been found yet. He’ll fly down as soon Max is settled. He’ll be anxious to see you. He feels terrible for letting you go.”

“No. –Please.” Her voice stumbled over her quick reply. “Tell him to wait. I don’t want to talk to him on the phone or see him until I’m home.” When he didn’t say anything, she spoke again, nearly inaudible. “Please.”

Xavier hesitated. “I’ll tell him. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed, but he’ll understand. I assumed you have no personal items with you, so I made a list and had some things delivered from some local shops to the hotel in Le Grand. I thought you and Nick might be there a while. I also sent a credit card in your name.”

As always, he was too good to her. “You didn’t have to send anything. Thank you.” She rarely spoke so formally with him.

The line became quiet again. “Kinsley? You do know—”

She stopped him. “Yes, I know.” She closed the phone and laid it on the bench seat.

Jackson put his hand over hers before she released the phone from her grip. The sentiment surprised her, and she pulled back. His face dropped, and he looked toward the windshield again.

“Can’t we talk, Kinsley?”

She glanced at him then back toward the window. “We can talk.”

“I understand your being upset with me. I only wish you’d try to see I did the best I could to be honest with you.”

“I’m not upset. I really wish you’d … forget it.” She wished he could see her for who she wanted to be and not the monster he must see her for now. Why do I care so much? “You had a job to do. No one can fault you for doing your job.”

“That’s just it, if I had been doing my job, I... my gut wouldn’t be half chewed away from the inside out. Everything between us was real. I wasn’t toying with you. I had to keep some things from you.”

Finally turning from the window, she spoke fast, afraid she’d lose the nerve if she waited. If she were smart, she’d keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t. She’d never have what she wanted when she returned home, and for a little while, she needed to forget that. “I have one, two days tops. After the investigation, I’m going back to New York. I need to decompress, and I can’t do it alone, but I don’t want to do it with all this tension between us.”

The truck screeched to a halt. He sat for a time and looked beyond the dash before he unbuckled his seat belt and bolted out. Within seconds, he was at her door, pulling her from her seat and into his arms. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he hugged her body close. Her arms circled his neck tightly as their lips sealed some unwritten agreement. Contract sealed—he pulled back and helped her dazed body back into her seat. Closing the door, he leaned down into the window.

“Two days. You’re mine. However much or little you want to share with me. Promise me that. Two days.”

Her nod was hesitant. It’d be hard for her to leave, but she was determined to do the right thing for Max. And Jackson. It’d be selfish for her to stay. In the end, when he found out things he wouldn’t want to know, it would change things between them. They’d have two days. She’d go back, and they’d have something real to hold on to when she was gone. “I’ll go home after that, Jackson.”

He put his hands up between them, pushing her words back. “Two days.”