Beyond Innocence Read online

  She chewed on her lip. “I was just…” She took a deep breath and blurted it out. “What was that all about? You never treat us like that. And I guess I didn’t mind just once, but…”

  He took her hand. “You’re right, Casey. I hated to ask but this is…different.”

  “What’s wrong, honey? You just haven’t been yourself since you came back.”

  “I told everybody about the amnesia. You gotta understand, I’m still kind of finding my way.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Don’t feed me that crap. There’s more to it. And it has something to do with that woman.”

  Yeah, it has everything to do with her. And with who I was when I was with her. And who I wish I could be. His thoughts rambled on in a blue streak, and he was so lost in them that he jumped when he felt delicate lips on his cheek.

  “When you figure it out, honey, you just let us know. If you want to shut down and leave, we’ll understand. I think you’ve done enough.”

  He quirked a half-smile. “Maybe I’ve done too much, Casey. You ever think of that?”

  “I hope we never figure you out, Tate.” She turned and walked out, tossing a mischievous grin over her shoulder as she went. “Talking about you behind your back makes it all worthwhile.”

  He chuckled as she closed the door behind her. But then he sank into his office chair and rested his head in his hands. He had made a strange yet good life here. But lately he felt more trapped and more miserable than ever before. For the first time he was starting to wonder if he could have another purpose in life, if he could be happy despite the strikes against him.

  And for the hundredth time since the return of his memory he wondered if he had made a mistake. Perhaps that decision, so long ago, had cost him too much.

  * * * * *

  Faye locked her bedroom door. That was one lesson she’d learned well. With shaking hands she pulled the mirror out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and eased a small velvet bag out from beneath the stack of lingerie. She knew it was safe there because Tate never went anywhere near her underwear anymore. Whether she was wearing it or not.

  She undid the knot and dumped the contents. Razor, straw and a tiny sack of white powder fell to the floor. She scurried to assemble her paraphernalia, and within two minutes had two perfect lines of high-grade, top-of-the-line cocaine ready for consumption.

  But when it was ready, she hesitated. She stared at it, and remembered all the trouble it had gotten her into.

  She remembered how it had infuriated Tate to the point of physical violence. She remembered how it had led to her association with Calvin. She remembered how it had given her the courage she would have lacked—the guts to pull the trigger that drove a bullet into her husband’s gut. She remembered the buzz and the excitement of the kill, and then the crash and the hell that followed.

  Considering all that, she knew it was a bad idea. She knew it. But knowing it and following through on that knowledge had always been a difficult progression for her to make. The call of the drug was always stronger than her ability to resist it.

  That was why she had come to hate Tate. He had pointed out her weakness, highlighted it. He had expected things from her that she could not deliver. He had made her feel small and worthless, while the cocaine made her feel huge and powerful.

  And what was he up to now? She didn’t trust him. He was being too nice, too indulgent. He wanted to work at their marriage? Huh! He was working at something else and she wasn’t sure what it was, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it.

  With two quick, deft motions she snorted up the lines and leaned back on her haunches, savoring the buzz and exulting in the power. Fuck him! And fuck the cops. She wasn’t sticking around to find out what he was after. She was getting out. Now.

  With a renewed sense of purpose she stood and headed for her suitcase in the closet. She almost didn’t hear the soft tap on her door. She tried to ignore it, but when she heard the soft, “Mommy?” her resolve slipped. She did love that boy. She was going to leave him with his father but that didn’t mean she didn’t ache for the mother she had never been to him.

  She tossed the empty suitcase on the bed and walked to the door. She unlocked it and allowed it to swing open. Her heart leapt to her throat and her stomach sank to her knees. “Calvin.”

  Tanner struggled against the hand clamped across his mouth. But it was the large semi-automatic pistol in Calvin’s other hand that demanded her full attention.

  “Hi there, you double-crossing bitch.”

  Her eyes flicked from the gun to his face and back again as she backed away. His hair hung limp and lifeless about his face and several days’ worth of stubble shadowed his jaw. He was filthy and unkempt but that did little to diminish his aura of sinister power.

  “Something wrong, Faye?” he taunted as he followed her into the room, dragging Tanner with him like so much dead weight. “Aren’t you happy to see me? Aren’t you happy to see your old lover?”

  Faye’s back bumped up against the back bedroom wall. She couldn’t formulate words through the dense smog of panic that had clouded her brain.

  Calvin kept coming, his eyes narrowed to evil slits.

  “I-I’m s-sorry,” she finally sputtered.

  “Sorry?” he said incredulously. “That’s all? That’s all you have to say after you betray me and try to turn me over to the cops? After all I did for you, you go and try to pin a murder rap on me and all you can say is ‘I’m sorry?’”

  “I…I was just so confused, Cal. I was all messed up about everything. I just wanted out. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She tried to suck in air but Calvin’s oily presence was pressing in on her, crushing her, constricting her chest and preventing her from breathing.

  “Shut up!” he yelled.

  And then she really couldn’t breathe because the barrel of that gun had been shoved between her teeth. She could taste metal and gunpowder. The steel was warm. The gun had been fired recently and that terrified her.

  “You say you’re sorry,” he sneered. “But you don’t know the meaning of the word. At least, not yet.”

  Tears of terror and helplessness seared her cheeks. Was this how Sam felt the moment before Calvin fired the fatal bullet? Was this how Tate felt as he writhed in pain and anticipated a death he thought was mere moments away? It was the first time she had ever empathized with someone else’s suffering. She wondered if it would be the last.

  “Ah…” mocked Calvin. “Poor baby’s crying. A little bit scared, are we? Doesn’t baby Faye want to die today?”

  She whimpered and shook her head—slightly so as not to upset the tenuous hold she currently had on life. At that moment she wondered why she cared so much. Not that long ago she had almost longed for death, but now when she was actually faced with its cold, hideous face she couldn’t bear the thought.

  Calvin seemed to consider the situation.

  He nudged the gun slightly and it clicked against her teeth. “Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over that wall?”

  Faye thought of Tanner, her son, and wondered that he hadn’t made a single sound or a movement since Calvin had threatened her with the gun. She blinked but didn’t dare try to speak.

  “I finished off those stupid cops outside, you know. I kinda liked watching all that blood and brains splash across the windshield. It made such a pretty picture but I’ve got a feeling yours would be even prettier.”

  Faye felt her bowels churn as she awaited the inevitable. But then Calvin smiled and to her absolute amazement he withdrew the gun from her mouth. “But maybe there’s one other person’s brains that’d be even prettier than yours.”

  Faye studied him as she tried to find a trickle of saliva to wet her lips and tongue. Then she thought she knew what he wanted to hear. “You want me to help you get Tate again?”

  Calvin’s smile widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

  Su
ddenly Tanner began to whimper and squirm again, but Calvin wrenched him backward and hissed, “Shut up, you little shit! Or I’ll do you right now.” He focused on Faye again, pointing the gun at her as he spoke. “I was halfway across the country when I saw the news story that some stupid John Doe from Calgary had finally been identified. Just a little human interest blurb. Ain’t that interestin’? But then I saw his picture and I just about shit a brick.”

  “I helped them find him, you know,” said Faye, suddenly seeing a way to endear herself to Calvin again. “If it wasn’t for me we’d have never known—”

  “Shut up! Don’t try and fool me. You didn’t do nothin’ for my sake. But all that’s gonna change now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll help. I’ll do whatever you want.” Even as she spoke her eyes were drawn to Tanner, and the cold, absolute loathing that she saw in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.

  “Look at me!”

  She forced herself to look back at Calvin, and her heart stopped when she realized she was looking down the barrel of his gun again.

  “Damn right you’ll do what I want,” whispered Calvin as he settled the gun against her forehead. “Because if you make even one, tiny, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny little mistake… If I think for one minute that you’re thinking of running off to the cops or anywhere…”

  He fired and Faye screamed as she dropped to the floor. He had suddenly shifted the gun and fired into the wall beside her left ear. She huddled on the floor and sobbed as she cupped her ear and gazed warily up at her tormentor. The ringing in her brain was deafening, and she thought she felt a dribble of blood. The bullet had whizzed by close enough to graze her lobe. She suppressed a wave of nausea.

  Calvin stood over her looking smug and completely hyped on the power that he wielded over her. “Get the message, bitch? Consider yourself on probation. You behave yourself and maybe I won’t kill you when this is all done. If you’re real good and do exactly what you’re told maybe I’ll even give you an extra special bonus.”

  She ignored his lascivious grin. “Anything,” she whispered, knowing that she meant it and knowing she had just lost her son forever. As if she had ever had him. She hated herself for what she had done and for what she was about to do. She hated the fact that she was completely powerless to affect her own destiny. But that was the way it had always been, and it certainly wasn’t going to change now. “I’ll do anything you say.”

  “Good.” Calvin nodded approval and glanced down at the boy with the clenched fists and the rigid posture. He scowled in disgust and looked back at Faye. “You’re going to help me find out what Tate did with that goddamn money, and then you’re going to help me do him. And this time we’re going to do it right!”

  * * * * *

  Marnie watched Pete and Kyle ease into their vehicle and drive away.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Don quietly.

  “I’m thinking that…” She sighed. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “He’s a character, all right.”

  “Who? Tate or Pete?”

  Don chuckled. “Throw this Sam fellow in there and you take your pick.”

  She nodded agreement.

  “Should we head back to the hotel?” Don shuffled his feet on the dusty sidewalk.

  Marnie didn’t answer him. She was lost in thought.

  “Marnie?”

  Her hand lashed out and grabbed his wrist. “No. No, I have an idea.”

  “Idea? What do you mean? For supper?”

  Her mind whirled. She felt almost euphoric with the rush of adrenaline that assaulted her senses. “No. I might have a way to get through to Tate.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I’m not ready to tell you yet. Actually, I want to do this alone. You go back to the hotel, and I’ll call you to pick me up at The Pit after I’ve seen Tate.”

  “What? You’re going to gallivant around a strange city alone?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be in cabs, and you’ll be bored out of your skull. There’s no point in you coming.”

  Don’s jaw was set and he rammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. She was taking away his control, and he never liked that. “I really wish you’d fill me in here.”

  “I’m going shopping.”

  He groaned. “Shopping? For what? And what does that have to do with Tate?”

  She pecked him on the cheek. “A new outfit, of course. And I’ll explain the connection later.”

  She knew Don wasn’t convinced but she didn’t care. Tate needed shaking up, and she knew just how to do it. If Don knew what she was up to he’d try to talk her out of it. Not because it was dangerous or stupid, but because of who he was and who he thought she was. This was no time to cloud the issues with virtues or morality. This was the time to follow her instincts and do what was necessary. She felt like Tate was floundering in the sea and refusing a lifeline. It was time she showed him just how idiotic that was.

  * * * * *

  Kyle blew the foam off his cappuccino.

  “Do you think he’d really do it?”

  Pete shook his head. “I don’t know. Tate’s a lowlife scumbag. But I would never have pegged him as being capable of murder.”

  “Then again, he never watched his wife participate in murdering his brother and then sink a bullet into his stomach before.”

  “Yeah,” Pete admitted grudgingly. “That could definitely change a guy.”

  Marnie had hesitantly expressed a concern that Pete had shared but been hesitant to acknowledge. The way Tate had spoken to her about his wife and his intentions with her had made Marnie uncomfortable. She hadn’t alluded to murder. She obviously didn’t believe her lover capable of that. But she was concerned he could do something in the name of vengeance that he would eventually regret.

  It had taken an hour to cajole that out of her. And in the end she had shared it more out of concern for Tate than anything else. She was a trooper. Pete couldn’t help but like her. She had accepted the stories of Tate’s past with stoic strength. Pete’s knowledge of Tate’s activities was limited, but he had been able to share a few tidbits regarding Tate’s relationship with his father, how Tate acquired his employees, how he treated them once in his employ—this was rumor only, but the visual evidence seemed to support it—and how he had managed to elude the authorities for so long. Of course, he had told her about the enigmatic relationship that Tate had shared with Sam. That was a given.

  She had absorbed it all and taken it in stride. In fact, Pete could see her resolve building the more she heard. For the first time in his life Pete envied the son of a bitch. He had somebody who loved him to distraction and who was willing to go to a lot of trouble to dig him out of the pit he had sunk himself into.

  If Tate wasn’t such an idiot he would let her save him. Or maybe he had his reasons. Pete could just never quite figure that guy out.

  “Faye’s not gonna like it,” offered Kyle.

  Pete tried to drag himself out of the murky depths of thought. “Huh? Like what?”

  “Being put back into protective custody.” Tate had convinced them that he could keep up the façade with Faye, and that his living, apparently happily, with her would be sure to lure Calvin Carter out of the woodwork. That was why the house, and Faye, were being watched twenty-four hours a day. That was why there was always a cop huddled in the back of the club. If and when Calvin showed up they wanted to be ready.

  But now that they were suspicious of Tate’s motives for moving back with Faye, they weren’t about to take chances with her safety. Whether or not Tate was thinking about hurting her it was obvious he wanted some form of vigilante justice. And they had no intention of letting that happen.

  They pulled into the driveway of the shiny new house on Walnut Street.

  “I’ll check in with Barker and Matz,” said Kyle as he stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Okay. I’ll head on up.”

  Pete had just ru
ng the doorbell when he heard Kyle’s panic-stricken yell. Pete turned to see his young partner frantically waving at him from the unmarked cruiser on the other side of the street. Kyle’s face was ashen and Pete’s heart sank.

  Even as he ran toward the car he knew they wouldn’t find Faye in the house. Calvin was back and had claimed her. Whether she was alive or dead was the question of the day, but for the moment they had other worries. There were the two dead bodies in the cruiser. There was the matter of whether Tanner was safely hidden in that house or, better still, playing video games at a friend’s place. And they had to get word to Tate. Soon.

  His plan had worked just a little too well. Dammit, but Tate Barton just couldn’t seem to do anything in moderation.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tate stretched his back and snapped the ledger closed. He’d only been back a week and already things were looking up. The books had been in a sorry state, and the accounts disturbingly low. While he was gone the girls had become dissatisfied, hence the clients had started complaining, hence Calvin had made yet more changes that had infuriated the girls…

  He rubbed at his temples as he considered the vicious circle that had spiraled out of control in his absence.

  Calvin had been a mistake. Tate should have seen that from the beginning. But he had looked so damn pathetic—bleeding on that sidewalk and begging for Tate to screw him so that he could afford another ounce, another fix, another joint…anything. Tate had known he should just keep walking, but he had never been able to turn away a woman in that condition, and apparently that extended to men as well.

  Very quickly it had become apparent that Calvin wasn’t going to take to Tate’s “reforms” as easily as the girls did. His gratitude was short-lived, and he soon set his sights on the business and the power he believed should be inherent with being male.

  Tate allowed himself a smile. Perhaps Calvin had something in common with that father Marnie had talked about, at least inasmuch as he believed men had an innate right to power. That might be true, but there was nothing Biblical about Calvin’s drives. They were fueled by greed, pure and simple.