Beyond Innocence Read online

  Marnie found herself thinking of what it would be like to watch Calvin Carter die. The thought startled her. Violence wasn’t in her nature, but after seeing what she had seen and after living through Tate’s arduous recovery from the wounds Calvin had inflicted—after all that, she couldn’t deny that she would not mourn the passing of her abductor. In fact, the darkest part of her longed for it.

  “What are we waiting for?” whined Faye. She was sitting at the only furniture Marnie had seen in the apartment, a worn Formica table and steel-frame chairs that occupied the center of the room.

  Calvin stopped his infernal pacing and picked at his teeth with a grubby fingernail. “I just want him to sweat a little.”

  Faye edged a little closer to the front of her seat. “Couldn’t we do a line or two, Cal? I’m edgy as hell. I need something to calm my nerves.”

  Calvin narrowed his eyes and sucked at the unseen food particles that had apparently been dislodged from his incisors. “I told you. No hits until this is done. I want you alert. I want you with me, baby.” He walked over to her and laced his fingers through her hair.

  Marnie was preparing to witness a sickening sexual display, but instead Calvin tightened his grip and yanked Faye’s head backward so that she was looking up into his feral eyes. Faye’s eyes watered but she didn’t cry out.

  “Like I told you,” hissed Calvin, “if you’re good, and show me I can trust you, maybe I won’t kill you when this is done.”

  Faye nodded mutely.

  Calvin let go and his eyes settled on Tanner. “Jesus, he’s a miniature Tate.” He pulled the pistol out of the waist of his jeans. He held it tight, his thumb stroking the butt nervously. “It’s tough not to just walk over there right now and—”

  “Hey!” shouted Marnie. She had a good idea what he had been about to say, and she had no intention of allowing Tanner to hear this man fantasize about his death.

  Calvin rounded on her. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” In two strides he was standing over her. He was an intimidating presence, but she was relieved to see him stuff the gun back into his jeans.

  Marnie swallowed her fear and spoke through gritted teeth. “Unless you want a puddle on the floor, I suggest you let me go to the bathroom.”

  “Shit,” he muttered softly. He motioned to Faye. “Get over here.”

  Faye walked slowly and methodically, her steps as heavy as those of an eighty-year-old. Marnie could see the utter hopelessness in her eyes but she felt no sympathy for this woman who had betrayed her husband and chosen the path that had led her here.

  “Okay,” instructed Calvin. “I’ll untie her feet and you take her to the can. But watch her close.” He turned back to Marnie. “Just in case you were getting any funny ideas—”

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, Calvin’s hand lashed out. Pain screamed through her as his knuckles connected with her face. He had backhanded her across the mouth and she could taste blood on the inside of her cheek.

  She had never been struck before in her life. It was excruciating and debilitating. It boggled the mind to think that Tate and thousands like him lived with this kind of pain and humiliation on a daily basis. To deal with it as an adult was difficult enough. How did a child live with it and stay sane?

  “Why did you do that?” she moaned. She could feel a trickle of blood on her chin but her hands were still bound. She was powerless to stop it.

  “Just so you know what’s in store if you pull anything funny.”

  She glared at him as he bent to untie the cord around her feet. He whipped off the rope and motioned for Faye to take over.

  Faye helped Marnie up with a hand beneath her arm and steered her toward the bathroom, which was apparently located at the rear of the unit. She followed Marnie into the small room that smelled of mold and urine and closed the door behind them. She clicked the lock shut and turned around to watch Marnie in silence.

  Marnie just stood there.

  “Well?” asked Faye. “Let’s go. This isn’t my favorite place in the world, you know.”

  “Would you care to explain to me how I’m supposed to go about this with my hands tied behind my back? Or would you care to do the honors?” Marnie lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

  Faye scowled as she considered that image. “All right,” she muttered. “I’ll untie you but I’ll have to do it up again before we go out. Calvin will hit the roof if he knows.”

  Obligingly, Marnie turned around and allowed Faye to loosen the rope. As soon as her hands were free, the first thing she did was touch a finger to the cut at the corner of her mouth. She glanced in the mirror.

  “He means it, you know.” Faye’s voice was low, and Marnie sensed the fear in it.

  “He’s hit you?” Marnie hitched up the leather and peeled off the black lace panties she had bought to go with the persona. She settled on the commode with a vast sense of relief.

  “From time to time,” said Faye dryly.

  “How do you live with that?” Marnie was incredulous Faye had allowed herself to become involved with someone like that.

  “It’s amazing what you get used to, honey.”

  Marnie couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking, “Tate told me once that he hit you. Is that true?”

  As Marnie watched, something akin to pain passed behind Faye’s eyes. She sank to the edge of the stained, porcelain tub as if she no longer had the strength to stand. “Yeah, it’s true.” She tucked some of her dingy blonde hair back behind her ears and looked into near space as Marnie finished her business and put herself back together.

  As Marnie glanced in the mirror and ran some water, Faye continued. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve been beat up worse than that a few times. But that time hurt more than anything I’ve ever been through.”

  Marnie was about to urge her on with another question but Faye was all too willing to talk. She continued her narrative without prompting. “I think it was because in more than four years of marriage he’d never hit me before. And then…” She swallowed and Marnie thought she saw tears in the other woman’s eyes. “And then I guess it hurt because for once in my life I actually deserved it.”

  “Deserved it?”

  Faye adjusted her position on the tub and crossed her legs as Marnie dabbed at her cut with cold water.

  “Yeah.” Faye took a deep breath. “I’d been in a bitch of a mood that day. Tanner was being difficult…” She actually smiled. “He could always be a little hellion around me. But somehow whenever Tate was there he was good as gold. It used to make me furious the way he seemed to love that man. Tate wasn’t around nearly as much as I thought he should have been, but when he was there he focused on Tanner like he was the sun.”

  “Tanner must have sensed that.”

  “Yeah. I guess I was there more but I didn’t really see him as much as I should have.”

  “So what happened?” Marnie urged.

  “Like I said, I was having a rough day and even though Tate hated it and didn’t know I kept stuff in the house, I figured I deserved to do a line or two.” She looked at Marnie for approval. “You don’t have kids. You can’t know what they can do to you.”

  Marnie retained a stony silence. There were no excuses that would ease her judgment of this woman.

  When the approval wasn’t forthcoming Faye seemed to accept it and continued on. “So I did a couple but the buzz wasn’t what I wanted. Tanner was having a nap because he’d been up half the night before, so I figured I could get away with doing a couple more.”

  “How old was he?”

  “About three and a half.” She shrugged as if it were inconsequential. “Anyway, I had everything all set up, and then I thought maybe I should wait a bit. I was feeling kind of sleepy so I thought I’d take a quick nap, set the alarm, and then get up and do the lines before Tate got home.”

  Marnie waited in silence, dreading what was coming.

  “I figured Tanner would sleep for hours and…”

  “And what?”


  “And, actually, I didn’t even think about him.” Faye looked at her toes. “I left the stuff on the kitchen table and went to lie on the couch. The next thing I know Tate is screaming at me and dragging me off the couch. He grabbed me and shook me and started shouting stuff I could barely understand. When he saw that I was high already he got even more angry and…”

  “And then he started hitting you.”

  She nodded miserably.

  “What had happened?”

  “He had come in the back door to find Tanner at the kitchen table. He’d climbed up and had the razor in his little fingers and the straw stuffed up his nose.”

  Marnie thought she should have smiled at that image but humor had never been more inappropriate. “Had he cut himself?”

  “No. And he hadn’t gotten into the coke. Tate knew that because the lines were undisturbed. They were too perfect. But he was close.” She sniffled. “God, he was close. When Tate walked in Tanner was leaning down with his tongue hanging out, all ready to slurp up the nice little piles of ‘sugar’ that Mommy had left for him.”

  “God,” whispered Marnie.

  “Tate locked Tanner in his room and then he woke me.”

  “Was…was it bad?”

  “Bad?” She grunted at the gross inadequacy of that word. “I’ve never seen him that angry. He only stopped because we heard Tanner crying in his room, and that sort of woke Tate up. And he stopped because he had sworn years ago that he would never turn into his father. He never forgave me, though. Never. I don’t know if he ever touched me after that, and he swore that if he ever found coke in the house again he’d do it again. Only this time he’d kill me.”

  Marnie wondered silently why Tate hadn’t just thrown her out on her ear. Was it because he needed someone to care for his son while he tended to his clubs? Or was it because he knew that if Faye was on the street she was sure to descend completely back into that hell? Had he made an empty threat merely to scare her into compliance with his wishes? Even after all that, did he feel a strange responsibility to keep her out of trouble and on the straight and narrow?

  “It was two years after that when Calvin came into the picture.” She looked at Marnie with infinite sadness in her eyes. “And he was everything Tate wasn’t,” she said ironically. “He touched me, and he shared the drugs with me occasionally. After a while it got to be more regular. And then he came up with his big plan.”

  “Did you really want to hurt Tate?”

  “Yeah,” said Faye frankly. “Yeah, I did. In a lot of ways I hated him. Does that shock you?”

  Marnie crossed her arms across her chest. “You didn’t deserve him.”

  Faye laughed. “No shit! I knew that from day one, honey. And maybe that was why I hated him.” She stood abruptly. “We better get that rope back on before Calvin notices we’ve been in here too long.”

  Faye worked quickly, but Marnie noticed the ropes weren’t nearly as tight as they had been before. She wondered if it was intentional but then decided she didn’t care. She no longer felt sorry for Faye. She merely despised her and nothing she could do would change that.

  Faye finished and put her hand on the knob. But then she stopped. “Do you deserve him?”

  Marnie was shocked by the question. But she considered it carefully. “Yes,” she said at last. “Yes, I do.” Then she smiled mischievously. “Actually, we deserve each other.” Faye smiled a little as she unlocked the door and Marnie added quietly, “I’d like a chance to prove it.”

  “Don’t look at me. I can’t help. I’ve got my own neck in a noose here. Don’t be thinking I’ll be making any sacrifices for you and Tate.” She pulled open the door. “Don’t fool yourself and start counting on me. From here on in, I’m looking out for number one.”

  Faye led them out into the apartment, and Marnie realized with disgust that the statement included Faye’s own flesh and blood.

  * * * * *

  Pete watched Tate staring out the window. He watched Tate stuff his hands in his pockets and just as quickly pull them out again. He watched Tate run his fingers through his already tangled mane and drop his hand to the back of his neck. With eyes still trained on the street, Tate rubbed absently at the muscles in his neck.

  “Will you sit down?” said Pete irritably. “You’re making me nervous.” It didn’t help that the concerned brother had been sitting, still as stone except for the foot that tapped a nervous rhythm on the polished oak flooring. Don’s gaze flitted to Pete every once in a while and every time Pete met that steely blue gaze it sent a little shiver up his spine.

  “Nervous?” ranted Tate as he whirled around and glared at Pete. “How the hell do you think I feel? My kid and the only woman—”

  Pete regarded him with interest. “The only woman what?”

  “Nothing.” Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s none of your business. All you need to know is that I’ll do whatever it takes to get them out of this.”

  “If it wasn’t for you she wouldn’t be in ‘this’,” said Don under his breath.

  Tate rounded on him. “Listen, you self-righteous, sanctimonious son of a—”

  Don launched from his seat and grabbed the front of Tate’s T-shirt. Tate held his ground and set his jaw. He just met Don’s gaze evenly. Despite the fact that they stood rigid and still, from the fire in their eyes it would have seemed they were already locked in mortal combat.

  “You wanna hit me?” taunted Tate. “Will that make you feel better? Will that make you feel like you’ve got control? That’s the name of the game, isn’t it? Domination and control. It always comes down to that.”

  Don gritted his teeth, and something indefinable passed across his features. “I want to but I won’t. I know the meaning of words like ‘self-control’, ‘morality’, and ‘integrity’,” he hissed.

  “How about words like ‘discrimination’ and ‘hypocrisy’?”

  Don dug his fingers a little deeper into Tate’s shirt. “You think I’m a hypocrite?”

  “You think I don’t deserve Marnie because I don’t wear suits and drop a couple of hundred into the collection plate every Sunday morning? Maybe I have my faults but at least I’m honest about them. I know what I am and I don’t bother denying it. But you,” Tate rammed a finger into Don’s chest, “you control and belittle the women in your life and spout platitudes and Bible verses in order to justify your actions. We’re more alike than you like to admit. You exploit women just like I do. I’m just more upfront about it.”

  Don’s face had gone beet red. He dropped his hands to his sides but the fists remained clenched. “I never said I didn’t think you deserved her. Believe it or not, I came down here to help her because I think you’re good for her.”

  Tate’s face contorted in confusion. “I thought you came down here to protect her from me.”

  “That too.” A smile spread across Don’s face. “Maybe you’re right about one thing, Barton.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Maybe we’re more alike than we like to admit. Maybe we’re more alike than Marnie likes to admit.” In the next instant the smile slipped off his face. He turned toward Pete, who had been watching the events with detached interest. “Just like he said. We’ll do whatever it takes to bring her home safe. The boy too. Whatever it takes.”

  It took an effort of will for Pete to reorient himself to the reason for this strange little gathering. The odd show of anger, support and affection threw him off balance. Tate continued to baffle him, and now this puzzling relationship with the brother was doing little to help him sort out the conglomeration of conflicting emotions he had come to associate with Tate Barton.

  It took him a moment to build up the usual low level of animosity he found useful when dealing with high-stress situations such as this one. But he’d had lots of practice at it. When he spoke no one could ever have discerned the emotional undercurrents that hid beneath his apparent irritation. “Oh, you’ll do whatever it takes, will you? Well, t
hat’s just peachy, except you two seem to forget that neither of you are cops. Getting them to safety is our job. You guys better not try any heroics that get in our way.”

  The two men just grunted, and Pete knew damn well they didn’t care what he said. He could only hope that the situation remained under his control and that there would be no opportunity for heroics. Calvin was stupid. They all were counting on that.

  Pete gave Tate another once-over as he refocused on the street outside. It hadn’t taken long for the initial shock to wear off, and Pete had to admit he was grateful that it had. It had been unsettling to watch Tate Barton, sly entrepreneur and pimp extrordinaire dissolve into a helpless, bleary-eyed mass. The shock of hearing that his son and girlfriend were in danger had knocked him flat, and seeing that had also turned Pete’s world upside down. He wasn’t used to thinking of Tate as caring about anything. Sure, he looked after his girls, and Pete had known that he had a kid. But Pete had never really seen him interact with Tanner, and he knew all too well that Tate’s relationship with Faye had more in common with the WWF than it did with The Waltons.

  He wasn’t used to thinking of Tate as having any of the usual human vulnerabilities or frailties. When he had seen Tate in Calgary it was like looking at a stranger. When he returned to Philadelphia, however, Tate had reverted to his previous, irritating self, and Pete had felt comfortable despising him again. But that brief glimpse of the sensitive side of his old adversary had made Pete question everything he knew about the man.

  Pete silently ranted. It’s damn irritating when you start to like a guy that you so desperately want to hate.

  Kyle sauntered into Tate’s living room. Insisting that his shoulder was healed, he had traded in the sling for a large bottle of Pepsi. Bottle in one hand and a box of crackers in the other, he sat down and crunched into a cheese-flavored Ritz. Three sets of eyes riveted on him immediately.

  “What? It’s almost eleven and I haven’t had supper. I’m hungry, okay?”

  As if that was all it took to set off his fuse, Tate pounded a fist against the wall. “Why doesn’t he call?”