Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [67]
I don’t know how long I sat there before it occurred to me that if I hadn’t taken the apartment key with me, that meant I probably hadn’t bothered to lock the apartment door. Feeling hopeful and foolish, I dashed up the stairs to discover it was unlocked.
Not only was it unlocked, but someone was inside. Of course, I didn’t realize this until I was safely in and had locked the door and turned the deadbolt. I heard movement in the hallway, and before I could find anything like a baseball bat, which I didn’t have anyway, the intruder appeared.
“Jacob?” I said in shocked surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick up some things,” he said in a quiet and sober voice.
“Oh.” I looked at him, trying to discern his condition—was he high or not? But I couldn’t really tell.
“The door wasn’t locked,” he told me. “I was getting kind of worried that something might’ve happened to you.”
Jacob was worried about me?“Really?”
“Yeah. I thought maybe you’d had an emergency or something. I didn’t think you’d go off and leave the door unlocked like that.”
“I haven’t been thinking too clearly today.”
He nodded. “Well, I just wanted to pick up some warm clothes and stuff.”
“That’s fine.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. It would be so easy to say,“Oh, just forget everything I said last night. It’s okay; you can stay here.” But I remembered what Dr. Abrams had said, what Jack had said, and I decided to stand firm. “Get whatever you need, Jacob.” Then I turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
I went into the kitchen and pretended to be highly interested in making a pot of tea. Finally he came back out with an old sports duffel bag stuffed full.
“Well, I’m gonna go now,” he told me.
“Do you need something to eat?” I asked.
He brightened a little. “Sure, that’d be great.”
“What would you like?”
“Oh, that’s okay, Mom. I can fix myself something. I know it’s late, and you look tired. I’ll just make a peanut-butter sandwich to take with me.”
“Sure, help yourself.”
I took my cup of tea over to the other side of the breakfast bar and watched as my son lathered on a thick layer of peanut butter. He was being very careful and neat, almost how a guest might act in someone else’s home. When he was done, he wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel and turned to look at me. “Thanks, Mom.”
Again I fought to hold back the tears. Then I thought of something. “I didn’t notice your car in the parking lot, Jacob. Or even on the street. Where did you park?”
He sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.”
I nodded. “Want to give me the sweet and condensed version?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s impounded.”
“Impounded?”
“Yeah. I got stopped last night after I left here.”
“And?”
“My insurance was expired.”
“Your insurance? What do you mean?”
“The card in my glove box was outdated.”
“Well, didn’t you explain that you had a new one?”
“I don’t. Dad hasn’t paid it.”
“So they took your car because of that?” I stood up now. “That’s ridiculous, Jacob. We can have that insurance reinstated tomorrow. I can’t believe your father did that. We’ll go down to city hall first thing in the morning and straighten this out.”
“Well, there’s something else, Mom.” He looked slightly sheepish.
“Yes?”
“I had an open bottle of vodka in the car.”
“Vodka?” I could hear the shrill tone of my voice.
“It wasn’t mine, Mom. It was Daniel’s. I didn’t even know it was there.”
“So the police searched your car?”