The Charity (45 page)

“My wife and I used to come up to this part of the coast before we were married. This is the only house that could pass as a winter residence for the hardier types. I rented it from the owner claiming to be a writer in need of solitude.” Jessica looked at him warily. He continued talking as he walked over to one of the wood stoves and struck a match. In a few minutes, its warmth began to penetrate the cold. “I paid him for two months in cash, he never bothered with the details. No central heat and a party line for a phone, but it’s safe.”

“Yeah? Well, ‘safe’ is a four letter word.” She looked around. “I guess this place will be fine for a while. I’m too tired to even think about it.”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

Jessica took a seat closest to the fire while the clattering of dishes from the kitchen punctuated the calm. He returned with a plate filled with crackers and jars of peanut butter and jelly. His other hand held two glasses, with two bottles gripped between his arms and chest. “I stocked this place last week with food that would stay edible for a while. I didn’t know when we’d be using it, only that we would need it in a hurry. Wine or water?” He offered her a glass.

“Water. We have work to do.”

He chose the same and lit the fire in the other wood stove.

“You even prepared the fires? I guess you were thinking ahead.” Jessica watched Shea through heavy eyes as he sat down opposite her.

“Right. Who’s first?”

“You are.”

He leaned forward and took her face carefully in his hands, using slight motions to turn her head carefully so that he could look at the injuries. “Can you see anything out of that eye? It looks pretty bad.”

Jessica raised her chin just enough to release her face from his grip. “I could see out of it this morning. It’s fine.”

He remembered her reaction in the car when he touched her sides. “Ribs, too?”

“Yup. Not broken, though. Remember I told you about the break-in?” She paused for his acknowledgment. “I think Granger got lucky and just bruised them again.”

Shea got up briefly and returned with some painkillers and refreshed the ice. “Here. This’ll help a little.” He helped her reposition the compress and watched as she took the pills. He returned to his seat.

“Jess. I believe you when you say Granger did that to you, but I’m having a hard time making it register in my head that someone I trusted could do that.”

“Well, your trusted ally has one of the same tattoos on his arm that I’ve seen before. I wouldn’t be surprised that he’s been a major source of problems for you.”

Shea considered her words and fought back his anger. “Christ! He’s worked by my side for years. I would never have figured him for something like this. I’m sorry.” He looked down and shook his head.

“He was good for one thing, though.” Jessica moved around in the chair and flipped the lighter to Shea.

“God! That’s incredible. How did he get his hands on it?”

“I called Jake Masterson, the foreman at the ranch I worked at in Utah. He said someone called him looking for friends or family members of mine when I was in the hospital down in Kentucky after my fall from the roof. He found it with some other stuff I’d left behind and so he mailed it to me at my farm. I called one of my contacts in Perc, Electra Lavielle, and had her send it to your office as personal mail. Granger was in on this whole thing and must have used the fact that staff at your office knew him as a friend of yours to gain access. My guess is he either conned them into giving him the package or he just took it.” She lowered her voice. “He used it to get me to go to this hotel with him. He said you told him to find me and that I was going to meet you there. It was just a holding tank until the real people could arrive. He was going to rape me before he handed me over to the killer. He beat me.” She closed her eyes.

Shea’s neck veins pulsed with barely controlled rage. “I’ll kill him for hurting you. Christ, Jessica, this case is getting uglier by the minute.” He wanted to reach for her and hold her until the shaking stopped. Instead, he rolled the lighter over in his hand and tightened his fist over it. After a time he said, “The engraving is pretty plain to see. It’s in good shape. Is there anything else engraved on it?” He brought it up to his face and looked at it closely.

“I never looked at it that carefully. I’m amazed I got it back.” She put her head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling while keeping the compress in place over her eye and the corner of her mouth. “If ever I had any doubt about that symbol and what happened to my family and Gus, I have none now.”

“Why? That’s the key to this whole puzzle.”

“I met a guy in a homeless shelter who took me to another man called ‘Sarge.’ He used to be a soldier for a group who refer to themselves as the ‘Charity.’ I couldn’t believe everything he told me, but he said the tattoo was their way of showing commitment and rank. Granger’s mark was not complete somehow. I guess that meant he was not in the upper ranks.”

“Tell me everything.” Shea was leaning forward in his chair.

“I can’t yet. I just need to rest for a bit before I launch into that. You first, remember?”

Shea took a gulp of water to wash down a dry cracker with peanut butter. It took another gulp before the glue loosened enough to speak. “Coogan’s dead. By all accounts, it was pretty horrible. My hunch is that your killer friend caught up with him. The timing is pretty coincidental. Don’t you think?” He watched as the news of Coogan’s death registered with little reaction. “Anyway, after his funeral I went up to the Registry of Deeds to check out any filings relating to your family or their land.”

“The Register of What?”

“The Registry of Deeds. It is where all of the official documents are filed for the public records. Anything having to do with buying or selling real estate, mortgages, property liens, and some census records are kept there. You know, stuff like marriage, birth and death certificates, and certain trusts. I found out a lot about your family, especially your father.”

Jessica turned her head up to look at Shea. Although she tried to hide it, the motion caused her considerable discomfort and left her a little breathless. “You did? What did you find out?”

“You’re in no shape to go over all the details.”

Jessica was too tired to disagree. “He cared for us a lot.” She managed to take a sip of water and looked at the food Shea was busy eating. “Do you have anything else to eat?”

He chuckled. “Right. I guess this doesn’t look so appetizing, huh? I have some other stuff in the kitchen. How about spaghetti?”

“Sounds fine. Can we try to talk about something else for a while? You’re right. I’m beat, and I don’t think I can absorb another detail on this mess. How about a truce for the night?”

“Right.” Shea got up and again Jessica heard more clattering of cupboards and dishes from the kitchen.

The wood stoves had heated the small house quickly with their radiant warmth. Jessica loosened her sweater, put her head back and tried to relax. Everything sounded so normal. She closed her eyes.

“Jessica?”

She opened her eyes and was surprised to see a small table set up beside her. Mismatched dinner plates and wine glasses were set out to receive the contents of two steaming bowls of food in the center of the table. Pulling herself upright, she scrunched her shoulders up to stretch her back. “I must have dozed off again. Wow! That’s quite a spread!”

“Don’t get your hopes up. There’s nothing like pasta, canned green stuff, and frozen bread to make a meal.”

Jessica moved to settle herself at the small dining table. Unlit candles stood untouched on the mantle of the fireplace. She understood their meaning and Shea’s omission. Shea returned to the kitchen as she used the unobserved moment to look at him. The jeans, knit shirt and sweater he wore fit well over his muscular frame. His sandy hair just touched the top of his collar and he moved with relaxed confidence. She moved the candles to the table and struck a match. “I think we deserve one ‘off duty’ dinner, don’t you?”

“Right,” he smiled. “Wine?”

They promised not to talk about business until the morning. Both of them were happy to have a breather. They had been living the case for close to two weeks straight and tonight seemed like an impromptu celebration of their survival thus far. Occasionally, the conversation would pass into a lengthy silence, but neither was in a hurry to fill it.

Shea cleared the table after they were done eating. He refilled their wine glasses, and they settled in front of the living room’s wood stove in two old chairs upholstered in a red plaid fabric. Their feet rested on a faded braided rug. “You look like hell, you know that?”

Jessica laughed. “Yeah? Well, I’m feeling much better now, thank you.” Her mouth fought the movement of the smile. The swelling that made her face feel like it had cotton wadding packed inside of it subsided. She could feel Shea’s eyes upon her.

“Do you regret that you’ve come out of hiding? You’re paying quite a price.” Shea’s voice was low.

“My past found me, remember? Besides, what were my choices? Stay dead or be killed? I knew this route was going to be hard.” Jessica looked over at Shea. She could see the concern heard in his voice echoed in his eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you.”

It had been a long time since Shea felt the emotions that grew inside of him now. When he saw Jessica on the street a few hours ago, he was surprised by how hard his heart beat at seeing her again. Alive. Safe. When he was preparing the house for them to work in together, he had a hard time keeping his mind on just working. His wife had the same energy about her. How long had it been since...? Too long. Having Jessica there so close to him, he let his mind wander.

“No. Remember, you’re helping me too.”

His statement contained several meanings. She sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She hated to ask, but she had to. “You don’t have any doubts about me, do you?”

Her face was now so close to his. “None. I am staking my life on it.” He brought his hand up to her face and touched her cheek, determined to be gentle at first.

For a brief moment, Jessica felt the confines of her isolation as she broke through its walls. Countless times she pushed people away. How could she have let someone get close to her? She was forever playing a role, trying to remember just who it was she was supposed to be. With Jake, they had a relationship based on his constantly reaching for her, and on her forever staying just out of reach—forever overly cautious. Now, for the first time in years, she was with someone who knew who she was and why. The thought of being genuinely close to someone was overpowering.

She closed her eyes to try to bring herself back into focus. The exhaustion, the wine and the sudden feeling of safety were having a strong effect on her. He leaned forward in his chair and slipped his right hand under her hair, behind the nape of her neck, as his lips gently touched her face.

“Owen,” Jessica began a whispered protest that was stopped by soft kisses on her mouth. She felt her response growing strong within her. She had waited so long to touch and to be touched like this—with warmth, for who she really was. She thought of the last time these emotions began to stir within her. Michael’s face rambled through her head as she reached out and touched the curve of Shea’s neck where it joined with his shoulder.

The power of Shea’s emotions was not betrayed by the gentle way in which he touched her. He had no intention of kissing her then, of letting go of his own tightly held emotions. Having her there so close, he found himself wanting to possess her. His left hand slowly began to curl itself around her waist to pull her to him. Her muscles tightened briefly, by reflex to protect her bruised ribs. She tried to pull away, and he would not let her. The force of his embrace escalated, and she let out a small cry of pain. He reluctantly let her go.

“I... I’m sorry, Jessica. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Jessica drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes slowly. “You’re right. Not like this. Not now.” Not you.

They listened to the hiss of the fire as it filled the silence.

Jessica slept for most of the next day. When she was awake, she and Shea barely spoke. It was obvious that he was exhausted too and when he was not sleeping his head was buried in papers. They both used the time to rest and recharge and the events of the past evening were ignored. Neither knew what lay ahead for them, but they both instinctively knew they had to be at their best without distraction.

Finally refreshed, Jessica woke up the following morning to the smell of coffee and cold salt air. Daylight filtered in through the windows. Rolling over on her shoulder, she could see that the sky was overcast and that the ground had a fresh covering of snow. Flurries spat from the sky, low with the promise of more.

She took a shower for as long as the water stayed hot, threw on the clean pair of sweat pants and shirt Shea had left in the room and walked down the narrow stairway to the kitchen. After pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee from the huge pot on the stove, she walked out onto the deck. The frigid air felt good on her skin. She inhaled deeply and savored the saltiness of it.

“‘Morning. How do you feel?” Shea joined her and leaned against the side of the house, mug in hand.

“Much better, thanks.” Jessica took a deep breath of the clear, crisp air and looked down the hill toward the marshes and out to the open water. “Nice spot.”

“Yeah. I love this area.”

Jessica was finally feeling well enough to let a glint of mischief flashed in her eyes. “So, I guess the couch didn’t fold up on you after all. I heard you struggle with the ancient pull-out bed last night. It sounded like it had not been opened in years. What a racket!” She had to bring her hands to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud at the sounds of man versus contraption. “It sounded like quite a battle.”

“Very funny. Tonight it’s yours.”

They both relaxed at being able to share a laugh. Jessica looked around and saw a neatly stacked pile of split wood by the door. She grabbed a couple of pieces and headed inside, Shea close behind. He took the wood from her and placed it on a smaller pile beside the stove in the kitchen. He turned her gently to face him. Her face remained blotched with patches of red, purple and yellow. “You still look like hell.”