Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(81)
Author: Brenda Novak

“You bet, dear,” Betty said. “See you soon.”

Jane tripped on the cord, knocking the phone off the hook in her haste to get back to the bedroom, but she didn’t bother to pick it up. She didn’t dare waste a second. Dragging a suitcase from under Kate’s bed, she threw some of her daughter’s clothes in it, pulled it across the hall and piled in some of her own.

Then she paused. What if Oliver tracked her down? Sued her for custody of Kate? That would mean trouble. She had only her suspicion to back her up. She had to be able to convince a court of law. Or she could lose Kate. To him.

Remembering the object Oliver had concealed from her last night while he was having his fun at her expense, she glanced around the room. Where would he have hidden it?

In the dresser? She pulled out one drawer after the other and dumped the clothes on the floor.

Nothing.

Between the mattresses? She tore the bed apart. Again, nothing.

Under the furniture? Getting down on her hands and knees, she put her cheek to the carpet and looked underneath the bed frame, dressers and nightstand.

No.

What was it and where had he put it? She suspected it was a knife. It wasn’t until she’d voiced her concerns to Noah that she’d become completely convinced of that, but now she couldn’t imagine it was anything else. He’d been reliving his past crimes, using her to fantasize.

Then she remembered the notebook he was always scribbling in. She didn’t know if it contained anything that could help her. He was fiercely possessive of it and wouldn’t let her read it. She hadn’t even tried since he’d been home. It was all in some kind of code, anyway. But she was fairly sure she knew where he kept it.

Reaching a hand between the wall and the headboard, she brought out that notebook and began glancing through the pages. It was mostly in code, all right, one he’d made up on his own, if she had her guess. But there was also a picture of Skye he’d cut out of the paper.

Shoving it in her purse, which she wore across her body to keep her hands free, she charged into the bathroom. She had to find that knife. Then she’d know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Oliver was everything Detective Willis said, and she could show that knife to Noah and the rest of the family, if need be.

After scooping out the hairspray, cosmetics and nail polish from the cabinet under the sink, she took off her purse and rolled onto her back to peer up at the plumbing. Had Oliver taped his weapon up there, where he’d assume she’d never look? No. Again she came up empty-handed, as she did when she checked the underside of the toilet-bowl lid.

Damn it! Putting her purse back on, she glanced nervously at her watch. She’d have to give up. He’d probably taken it with him. And she couldn’t risk staying in the house much longer. Oliver could come home any second. She knew he didn’t love her, but she also knew he wouldn’t want to lose her, or Kate. Having a wife and child ensured that his family remained sympathetic to him and helped him keep up appearances while he plotted and planned with his stupid notebooks and coded words. She was also his meal ticket right now.

Heart racing, she took a final look around. The mess alone would drive Oliver crazy, she thought with satisfaction, and headed out of the bathroom to get the suitcase. As terrifying as her actions were, she felt strangely empowered, free. She was leaving him. She would never have to suffer his touch again. There had to be something better for her out there….

She was dragging the heavy suitcase down the hall when a new thought occurred to her. Although Oliver had always kept the receipts for everything he purchased and entered it in QuickBooks, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to save a receipt that showed he’d bought a knife. She was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to own anything other than simple kitchen knives without violating his parole. So, if she could prove he possessed something on the list of forbidden objects, they’d send him back to prison, wouldn’t they? Then she’d be able to keep the house and her job until she could come up with a better solution.

Chances were good that he’d disposed of the receipt immediately, before he even drove home. And if he hadn’t, he’d probably thrown it in the trash.

Dropping the heavy suitcase in the middle of the living room floor, she adjusted her purse so it wouldn’t get in the way as she rummaged through the inside garbage. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she went out the side door and lifted the lid of the county’s refuse can.

A car pulled into the drive before she could dig very far.

Heart pounding, Jane peered through the cracks of the fence. Just as she’d feared, it was Oliver.

David grimaced when caller ID on his cell phone indicated his ex-wife was trying to get hold of him. Her timing, if she wanted to ruin his evening, was almost perfect. He’d just pulled into Skye’s driveway and was reaching for the wine he’d bought.

With a frown, he turned the ringer to vibrate and shoved the phone in his pocket. He refused to let her make him feel guilty right now. But when she called back two more times before he could even get out of the damn car, he decided he’d better answer. God forbid, but it was possible that there was some problem with Jeremy.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to quell his impatience.

“Hey!” Her voice sounded thick, strange.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m out having a good time.”

He could hear music in the background, but it was distant, as if she was standing outside a building. “Where’s Jeremy?”

“At my mother’s.”

That was odd, too. Lynnette’s mother rarely agreed to babysit. She occasionally dropped by on a Sunday afternoon to take Jeremy out for ice cream, but she’d been single for the past ten years, ever since Lynnette’s father had left her for a much younger woman, and liked to go ballroom dancing on the weekends. She and Lynnette had never really gotten along.

“How’d you convince her to do that?”

“I told her you were f**king someone else, just like Dad did, and she felt sorry for me.”

David bit back the anger that rose at her words. There were more differences than similarities between him and her father. David had never slept with another woman while they were married. And he hadn’t left her for someone else.

But it wasn’t worth arguing about. Not when she was obviously intoxicated. “Is there a reason for this call?”

“Your car wasn’t in the lot at your apartment building.”