When the Heart Lies

Chapter 9





After Jackson and Olivia’s plane got in, Jackson went straight from the airport to pick up Scar. Anxious to hear what she had to say about Kinsley, he drove a little too fast. She was already waiting for him in the dining area.

“Hi, ready to get out of here?” he said, pulling his head in the direction from which he’d come.

“Yeah.” She headed for the door, but her usual upbeat way of behaving seemed subdued.

“Whoa, wait a minute. What’s up with you? You didn’t even say hello. Is something wrong?”

“We can talk in the car. I just want to get out of here.”

They had been driving about five minutes when he let out a huff. Scar’s silence was uncommon and disturbing. “Okay, time to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just got a bad vibe.”

“About Kinsley?”

“You should’ve seen the way she looked when she left. Way worse than the other night when she said she was down.”

He remained quiet for a few minutes, chewing himself out for not meeting with Xavier sooner and not saying goodbye to Kinsley. “We’ve got the audio from inside the house. Come back to the motel with me and listen to some of the taped feed from today.”

Scar nodded. He could see she was worried. He shouldn’t have gotten her involved, but now that she was, he knew she’d feel better knowing what was going on.

“I’m going to make sure she’s all right, Scar.”

“I gave her my cell number and told her to call me if she needed to talk,” Scar said, not sounding very confident that Kinsley would call.

That worried him. “Did you give her mine?”

“I asked if she wanted yours, but she said no.”

“Oh.” It wounded him hearing she didn’t want his number. He was sure she felt the same connection he did. He hoped so at least. “Did you have any lunch? I’ve got some stuff at the motel for sandwiches.”

“I ate. I’m good.”

The room was in a shitty roadside motel. The only thing available in Orangevale: rooms rented by the hour, the day, or the month. Depending on the length of your stay, they offered amenities. Scar dropped her bags beside the door as they walked in. She went over to the bed, fell backwards onto it, and stretched out like a cross.

“How could you stay in this hole for three months?” she said.

“It’s not so bad. Cable, fridge, hotplate—porn.”

She distorted her expression and threw her pillow at him. “Gross.”

He ducked and went to get himself a beer. “Relax. You know I’m kidding. Sorta.” He smirked. “Want anything?”

She shook her head with another ridiculous expression deforming her pretty face. “Yeah, right. You’re kidding. It’s not like you could bring anybody here. Even Olivia wouldn’t want you that bad.”

He laughed heartily. She was right. Lying down on the other bed, he put his hands under his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. Grunts escaped the depths of him as he stretched.

Scar turned onto her side, leaned on her elbow, and faced him. “So, what happened last night?”

“I talked to her father-in-law, Xavier. I’m working for him.” He turned his eyes back to the ceiling and added with some hesitation, “Met her husband, Nick.”

“What’s her husband like?”

“I can’t even describe the guy. A*shole would pretty much sum it up, I suppose. He’s good looking and filthy rich. Definitely a natural born player. She’s too good for him.”

“So he’s everything you’re not, except the player thing.” She giggled.

He tossed the pillow she’d thrown back to her and got up. “I’m single. And I’m not exactly broke. I’m getting in the shower. Start listening to the taped audio from today. I’ll be out in a few.”

“But you are filthy.” She batted her lashes, mockingly.

As he turned to leave, he waved her comment away.

Scar turned the feed on, got a Coke, and began listening.

What she was listening to explained Kinsley’s mood yesterday. It wasn’t long before Jackson finished his shower.

As he came from the bathroom, he continued to shimmy the towel over his wet hair before tossing it aside. “Did you hear anything?”

“Yeah. I think you might want to listen to it for yourself.”

“Okay. Back it up.” He sat huddled over on the side of the bed, listening intently with one ear cocked toward the sound as he chewed his bottom lip.

“So, what do you think?” Scar said.

His brows creased, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think it’s a good thing we have audio. Put on the live feed, and we’ll listen to that for a while. There’s obviously more going on than we imagined. I wonder if this is what she’s been going through the last three months. We should’ve started sooner.” He got up, went to the window, and stared out into the sandy parking lot, leaning the bulk of his weight against the frame. His stomach flip-flopped. He’d have an ulcer by the end of this case. That, and a broken heart. More discouraged than ever, he turned away from the window, went to sit across from Scar, and continued listening to the feed.

He dug a roll of Tums from his pocket, popped one into his mouth, listened to some more, and popped another. Wayde’s promise to ‘take care of her’ troubled him. Maybe Pierce keeping her one more day would’ve given him the time he needed to make a deeper connection and convince her to get back home. He had handled everything wrong. Pierce had been right; if anything had happened to her, it would have been on his head. Second-guessing himself wasn’t going to help, though, so he moved on to more forward thinking, considering ways he might be able to reconnect.

“How long do you think she’ll stay?” Scar asked.

“I’m not sure. Not very long, I hope. I’ll miss her if she does leave.” He hadn’t meant to say the last of his thoughts aloud.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen you like this with anyone. Are you in love with her? She’s married.”

He hung his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” He knew there was nothing he could do to stop thinking of her. He felt different with her. It wasn’t some game of seduction between two people filling time. This was real.

“Jackson, you said she wants to go home. What are you thinking?”

He moved from the window and fiddled with the equipment, unable to remember a time in his adult life when he’d felt so unnerved. “Look, let’s drop it.”

Scar raised her hands delivering a virtual apology. “Okay. Enough said. Can I watch TV while you listen?”

“As long as I can hear.” His phone rang, and he signaled to Scar to cut the feed. When he looked at the caller ID, he grimaced and swiped the cell from the table. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi, it’s me, Olivia. How’s everything over at the house?”

“Kinda quiet right now. I’ll call Xavier when I get something.”

“How about going to dinner?”

He cast his eyes over the room as his hand raked through his hair, landing on the nape of his neck, massaging deeply. “Already had dinner. I should probably stay here anyway.”

“Drinks? You can listen to the feed later. You don’t have to listen every minute.”

“I’m kind of tired.” He lied, but it was best to not to lead her on.

“Okay, your loss.”

The phone went dead.

He grabbed a beer and turned the feed back on. With the first words from Wayde’s mouth, he cringed. Kinsley meant every word when she said she was in a bad place. Just how bad, she hadn’t said.

He drove over to Wayde’s and listened to the portable feed in his inconspicuous old Ram pick-up, parking in a part of the grove that was unseen from the house. If trouble started, he wanted to be close, or even better, on the doorstep. After a couple hours, he slammed the steering wheel. The goddamn music they always had on was getting to him. Anything could be going on inside. He returned to the motel, spent. Days went by with more of the same routine. Wayde would be an ass, and Kinsley would ignore him, especially if Max was around. Some days, he wanted to bust through the door and carry her out of there. But he didn’t want to be her knight in shining armor. He wanted her to stand up for herself and get the hell out of there on her own two feet. And until he was sure she was unable to do that, he had to sit tight. He didn’t need to listen every minute, but often he couldn’t pull himself away. He listened for the one bit of information that would give him a clue to why Kinsley remained with Wayde.

~ ~ ~

This morning, weeks after returning from Lakeside, Kinsley stood in the kitchen doorway watching Wayde as he sat hunched over in his chair, smoking and eating his daily waffles with peanut butter.

When she’d first returned, Wayde had put locks on the doors that opened with a key from both sides and started taking the phone cord, so she couldn’t make calls. He told her not to bother making a fuss about it to anyone if she wanted Max safe. So, she kept her mouth shut. In the morning, she’d play with Max, and later, she’d fix lunch. It’d be a big one. That’s how he told her they did it in the country, and they called it dinner. After dinner, she and Max would nap for a couple of hours to keep away from him. When they got up from their nap, she and Wayde would drop Max off at Veda’s, and Wayde would take her to the café. She was thankful for every day she’d make it to the café. She’d go crazy if it weren’t for the writing. The writing helped. Everything from her mind would empty onto the page instead coming out of her mouth. If it didn’t stay on the page, who knows what would happen. It was no longer about getting enough money to get them home. It was just about getting out, but she was losing hope she’d get an opportunity to call Nick. Wayde watched her so closely. Savannah was right. Before Kinsley had gone to Lakeside, he’d been coddling her. Savannah had told her so when she complained about his behavior in the beginning.

Things at Wayde’s were ten times worse than before, and she was ten times more intimidated. For the most part, he’d been leaving her alone at night. She cried when he touched her. He’d get pissed off and turn away. She didn’t want him to see her weakness, but the crying worked, and he left her alone. So, that’s what she’d do. Every night. Her only reason for getting up anymore was Max. Every morning, they would wait for Wayde to get on the tractor and go into the grove until lunchtime.

Without Wayde ever realizing she’d been standing there, she turned and went back to the bathroom to shower before waking Max and heading back to the kitchen to make him breakfast.

When she and Max entered the kitchen, Wayde grumbled and said, “It’s about time you got up. I’ve been up two hours already.”

“I get up when Max gets up, and I don’t get what you’re worried about. It’s only seven o’clock. Come on Max, sit up here, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

Max wobbled on the chair as he climbed into it, nearly falling. She instinctively reached out to stabilize him scooted the chair under the table and then gave him a pat on the head. “Be more careful, or you’ll get hurt.”

“The kid’s gonna become a mama’s boy if you don’t stop babying him like you do.”

You don’t have to worry about what he becomes. “I need you to take me down to the café after we get up from our nap this afternoon.” She figured she’d have to listen to him complain. Every day he’d complain. Thank God he usually took her, anyway. If the owner, Jim, wasn’t working, she didn’t go. Those days she couldn’t go to the café were difficult, because she could think and write there, knowing Max was safe with Veda. She attempted to reach out to Nick once, but Jim didn’t want to get between a man and his woman, and he shyly told her so when she’d asked to make a phone call. Wayde was always sure to remind her. If Jim called him, he’d get to Max before she could packed up her stuff and walk out the front door of the café. She couldn’t send e-mail. The café had no Internet, and Wayde didn’t have any either. He had the service cut the day after she arrived, saying computers were a distraction and they needed to get to know each other. She never knew what he might resort to if she didn’t go along with him, and she was in no hurry to find out.

“You been at the café every day this week. You don’t need to be goin’ every day,” Wayde said.

She scoffed. “You want the rent paid, don’t you?”

“Don’t be a wise ass, and don’t go thinking you’re going to try to get outta here and run down to Veda’s when I’m down in the grove. I’ve got my people watching ya. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to that little boy of yours. Why don’t you turn that God damn music of yours down, too. I get sick listening to it.”

“I need the music to drown you and Savannah out.”

His head nodded slightly, coupled with a threatening stare. How much longer could she endure this?