Deeply, Desperately (22 page)

I took hold of her shoulders, made her look at me. "Sarah, do you really want to stay?"

Sadness radiated from her eyes. She shook her head. "But I can't go with you."

"The hell you can't," Preston said, looking at Aiden. "Right?"

Aiden took hold of Sarah's elbow, helped her stand. "Right. Sarah, you come with me. Lucy, you can follow us."

"What! No, no! I can't go. He'll hurt them!"

Aiden said, "Hurt who?"

"My kids. Jerry knows where they are. He'll kill them. I know he will. Please just go! Leave me alone. They've been hurt enough." She wiggled. "Please, please just leave me alone."

Aiden held tight. "Stop it, Sarah! We can help you. You just have to come with us."

"No!" She struggled against him.

Firmly, he said, "Look at me! Sarah, look at me!"

Slowly, she raised her chin.

"We won't let anything happen to the kids. Or to you. Do you hear me?" When she didn't answer, he repeated, "Do you hear me?"

She nodded.

Aiden moved fast. "If he's going to be home soon, we need to leave."

I stood to the side, let Aiden do what he did best. When in crisis, he was the go-to man. Strong and sure, he led Sarah to his car, deposited her in the front seat.

Preston, I noticed, was still shaking.

And so was I. A full body tremble that didn't subside as I blasted the heat. Sarah Loehman was alive ...

I hadn't thought so. Not even after Scott begged me to believe that she'd run away. I thought he'd been holding on to a pipe dream, or perhaps trying to cover his tracks.

Now this. She was alive. She'd clearly been abused. For how long? How did she end up with Jerry White?

As I pulled away from the curb, I looked back at the house, at the apples spilled across the stoop. A tear slipped from my eye.

Preston handed me a tissue. We silently drove, following Aiden to the McDonald's where Shannon O'Meara worked. It wasn't exactly where I thought he'd take Sarah.

Pulling in next to him, I rolled down my window. "Shouldn't we be going to the police station?"

"I don't know where the hell we are. Can you take
her inside?" he asked. "I need to make some phone calls."

Preston helped Sarah into a booth. She gripped my coat with both hands, pulling it tightly around her. I kept an eye on her as I stood in line. I ordered four coffees and brought them to the table. Sarah rocked back and forth.

"He'll kill them," she said.

Preston patted her arm. "Detective Holliday will make sure that doesn't happen."

"You have to promise me," she said to us.

We promised.

Through the plate-glass window, I saw Aiden on the phone. His arms swung as he spoke, gesturing madly. I could almost imagine the conversation he was having.

"How did you find me?" Sarah asked suddenly.

"Your bracelet," I said.

Confusion furrowed her brow.

"Your anklet," I clarified.

"I didn't want to sell it, but I needed some money. Jerry didn't ever give me any, and I was hungry. So hungry," she said, sipping her coffee. Her eyelids drifted closed and I saw the moisture perched along the edges of her lashes. "When he was at work one day, I snuck out and had a little yard sale. I had to."

"Did he ... kidnap you?" I asked, wondering if I shouldn't. If I should wait for Aiden to question her formally.

Preston didn't reach for her recorder, only listened.

"I was stupid," Sarah said. "I met him at the park.
He said all the right things to me, all the things I was stupid enough to fall for. I thought he was what I wanted. Freedom. Ha." Her laugh held no humor. "We were supposed to go away for the night. One night. I haven't been home since. He locked me in his house." Her eyes fluttered closed, stayed that way for a long time. "He did terrible things to me."

"I'm so sorry." My voice cracked. I sipped my coffee, wishing my chest didn't feel so tight.

"Me too," Preston said in a small voice.

"When I tried to escape, he threatened to hurt my kids. I couldn't leave. I couldn't put them at risk."

"They're going to be fine," I reassured her.

"My kids ... are you sure they'll be okay? They don't deserve to be hurt. Maybe I did. For being so selfish, so spoiled. But they don't. Never did."

"No one deserves to be hurt. No matter what." I reached across the table, rested my hand on top of hers. "I'm not sure if you know, but Scott has been under suspicion for your murder for the past two years. Everyone's been convinced you were dead and that he did it."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh my God, oh my God. Poor Scotty. Oh no. Jerry told me Scott hated me, that he filed for divorce. Why would anyone think he'd hurt me?"

"Circumstantial reasons," I said softly. "You disappeared without a trace."

"I didn't know. Jerry wouldn't let me watch TV or read papers for more than a year. He only let me out of the house in the last couple of months. He'd always threaten me. He had pictures of Maddie and Jake. Recent
ones. I didn't dare disobey him. I didn't know! Oh God," she cried, her face mottled with emotion.

Preston stared into her coffee cup.

"Scott never believed you were dead. He thought you ran away. That you'd come home one day. He's refused to move so you'd know where to find him."

She crumpled, tears flooding her eyes. "I never realized just what I had until it was too late. I never knew." Resting her head on her arms, she cried silently.

I kept hold of her hand, not knowing what to say or how to comfort her.

I didn't even notice Aiden had come in until he slid into the booth next to me.

"We're going to have to leave, Mrs. Loehman," he said. "Head over to the Portsmouth police department. You and Preston can head on home, Lucy. There's no point in sticking around all day. Your statements can be given later."

He was right, but I didn't want to leave her. "Do you want me to call your mother, Sarah?"

Her head snapped up. "Not my mother. I can't deal with her right now."

In that instant, I knew Scott had been telling me the truth about Sarah's relationship with her mother. "All right. Is there someone?"

She sniffled. "Can you call Scott?"

I glanced at Aiden. He nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I can do that."

As Preston and I settled into the car, she let out a deep whoosh of breath. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"All hell is about to break loose for that family. Those poor kids."

"I was sure you were going to tell me what a big story this was, how it was going to make your career."

She glanced out the window. "Some things are more important."

I backed out of the parking space. "Don't tell me I'm rubbing off on you."

With a sigh of disgust, she said, "It's not a compliment or anything, so you can stop that ridiculous smiling."

Boston's skyline rose up, the skyscrapers outlined against the dark gray sky. Fat snowflakes fell lazily.

Preston and I were headed south, on our way to Leo Epperson's house.

Somewhere in the northbound lanes, Scott Loehman was going to see his wife.

I wanted to believe in happily ever after for them. Right now there were slivers of light cutting through the darkness they'd lived in for two years, but I had the feeling they'd be dealing with shadows for a long time to come.

Aiden had called a few minutes ago with the news that Jerry White, aka Jerry Whitehead, aka Josiah Whitcomb, had been taken into custody. He had a string of outstanding warrants that included assault, rape, and attempted murder on top of what he was facing now.

There was no doubt in my mind that Sarah had been living a nightmare.

And that Maggie O'Meara had excellent instincts.

Bumper-to-bumper cars wedged into the lanes stretching across the Southeast Expressway, south of
the city. I turned on the radio, listened as forecasters warned everyone to go home early. The doozy of a storm was finally on its way.

Preston had a legal pad on her lap and was sketching ideas for a story.

I was fidgety, at odds with myself.

I was missing Sean.

Picking up my phone, I let it rest in the palm of my hand. Willed it to ring.

It lay heavy.

As did my heart.

Should I hold or should I deal?

It was well past two o'clock now. Plenty of time for Cara's test to be over and done with.

"You waiting for a call?" Preston asked.

I shook my head.

"Just call him," she said.

"Call who?"

"Whom."

"This from the double negative user?"

She ignored me. "Look, okay, so you've thrown me for a few loops over the past couple of days, made me think I didn't really know you at all. But I know you well enough to know how you feel about Sean. And it's easy to see how he feels about you."

"Oh?"

"Don't act so coy. You two ... well, you belong together. My God," she said. "I can't believe I just said that. So sappy and sentimental. Maybe I have been spending too much time with you."

"We can fix that."

"I'm hurt. Wounded."

"Dramatic."

"Call him."

I smiled. The thought of dealing
was
almost too much to bear. Biting the inside of my lip, I dialed. The call went immediately to voice mail. His voice asked me to leave a message. I contemplated hanging up, but finally said, "I hope you're okay. I miss you, Mr. Donahue."

Preston made gagging noises. I ignored her.

Traffic crawled along. Preston went back to her notepad.

My wipers slid across my windshield, removing the snow. Ahead I could see a break in the traffic, just beyond flashing red and blue lights. A fender bender.

The snow fell harder as my GPS instructed me to exit the highway near the South Shore Plaza. The voice, a sultry-sounding female, then guided me along back roads into Braintree and often implored me to stay to the right. Leo lived in a small ranch house that didn't look any bigger than Dovie's garage. Pale green aluminum siding, newer roof, big picture window, and a carport that protected Leo's Buick LeSabre from the weather.

"Somehow I knew he'd drive a Buick," Preston said.

"Really? I'd been thinking more of a town car."

"Cars are like underwear, Lucy. Personality. Leo is not a town car." She glanced over her shoulder at my Prius, arched an eyebrow, and didn't say a word.

Which was fine by me.

I shuffled through two inches of snow. Leo's sidewalk had already been shoveled once, but was now skimmed with a top layer of fluffy flakes.

He opened his front door before Preston could knock.

I stomped my feet on the welcome mat and followed her inside.

"Did you find Joanne?" He motioned for me to sit on the sofa. The house was cozy, with dark woods, cool neutrals, and an inviting scent of coffee hanging in the air.

Preston bounced like a kid on Christmas morning, sitting in front of a pile of opened presents. She was obviously dying to blurt out why we were here.

"Not yet," I said. "But I hope soon. I tracked your class ring to an antiques shop in Falmouth. The jar of buttons it was in had been bought by the store owner from David Winston's estate."

His brow furrowed. "Joanne's son?"

"Right. He passed two years ago." I glanced around the room, at the oil prints of old ships hanging on the walls. There were no photographs. "Long story short, I contacted the attorney who handled David's estate. I went and met with him."

"We," Preston corrected, still jiggling.

I sighed. "
We
contacted the attorney.
We
met with him."

"Joanne is alive?"

"As far as anyone knows. The lawyer knew the family quite well. He lost touch with Joanne after David died. She was living in Florida."

"The same dead end your Mr. Donahue hit?"

Your Mr. Donahue.
I liked that.

"Not quite. The lawyer suggested I ask Joanne's daughter where she might be."

His brow wrinkled. "Daughter? But she only had the son."

"She only had a son with Charles Winston. She had a daughter," I said softly, "with a man who died in the war before the baby was born."

His mouth opened, then closed.

"Leo," Preston shouted, "you have a daughter!"

He stared at me, eyes wide, then at Preston, as if he were trying to wrap his brain around what we'd both said. "A daughter?"

I nodded.

And he crumpled.

"Are you crying?" I asked my mother. "Please don't cry."

"I'm not crying for me. I'm crying for you."

I'd just dropped Preston off at the
Beacon
and was heading home when Mum called. Snow fell faster than my blades could wipe it away. I was in a good mood, thanks to Leo. He'd been in a daze when we left. A happy delirium that had him bubbling with excitement and more enthusiasm than ever to find Joanne ... and his daughter. He was ready to pack his belongings and head to the Bahamas to find Lea himself, but I managed to talk him out of it--for now.

"That's even worse. I'm fine!" I insisted.

"How can you be? How could your father do this to you?"

"I'm thinking it had nothing to do with me at the time. Mum, really. I'm actually kind of happy to have a brother. Well, I will be when I can acknowledge him as my brother. Have you Googled him yet?"

"What's a Google?"

I smiled. "Do you ever use your computer?"

"For accounting."

"Hmm. Too bad. If you had actually paid attention when I taught you how to use the Internet, you could go on right now and see a picture of Cutter McCutchan. He looks just like Dad."

"Oh! I have to see him."

"Go to Dovie's. She'll show you, and you can tell her all about Cutter."

"Dovie knows how to Google?"

"She paid attention."

"Well, you're a fine one to talk to your mum like that. Exactly how many piano scales do you know?"

"That would be none."

"My point precisely. After three years of lessons."

"All right, all right." I laughed. "Truce! Are you really okay?"

"I have to say the news came as quite a shock. Though why it was, I don't know. Your father has been far from celibate all these years. I confess to being a little blue," Mum said. "I guess I liked knowing I was the only one your father chose to have a child with."