The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [107]
“I don’t know,” Tess said. She was straddling his lap, examining his arm. It looked even worse in the morning light. Now he couldn’t move his fingers at all.
“Think, Tess.”
“I have thought about it! I’m telling you, his family is dead, he never had friends, just associates, and now there’s no logical person for him to turn to. On the other hand, he picks up women like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Maybe he has a steady girl these days. I don’t know.”
“Where did he hide last time?”
“I don’t know.”
“He disappeared for six months and the cops still don’t know how?”
“I’m sorry, J.T., but once he was caught, he didn’t exactly volunteer all the information. That only happens in the movies.”
“Where did they search last time?”
“In the beginning, everyplace, just like they’re doing now. His picture was posted, a hotline established. They issued a warrant throughout New England. As time wore on, however, the task force grew smaller, the effort less intense. Police departments don’t have the budget to maintain that level of manpower and diligence for six months.”
“Which Jim knows. So he waited, the number of officers working the case slowly dwindled down, and soon there’s you, sitting in your old house with only a couple of cops working each watch shift.”
“We weren’t even sure he’d come back,” she whispered. “Quincy just thought it was probable.”
J.T. was silent. His skin was an unhealthy color. His forehead felt like he was running a fever. “He could do that again, you know.”
“He has Samantha.”
“Exactly. An even better reason for him to lie low. He has a place—maybe a person. Let’s just assume that for now. He used it last time he disappeared and he’s using it now. You’re right. He keeps a low profile, and six months from now the task force will be half the size. They’ll start thinking he slipped through the net unseen, men will get called onto more active cases. Yeah, if he can be patient, it can work.”
“Then we find him,” Tess said simply. “I’m not leaving Samantha in his possession for six months or a year.”
“I’m not arguing. But we have to have a starting point. We need information.”
Tess took a deep breath. “You’re absolutely right, J.T.”
The tone of her voice gave her away. He was immediately shaking his head. “You can lead a horse to water, Tess, but you can’t make him drink.”
“I’m not playing with a horse. I’m talking about you and your sister and my daughter, who needs you both!”
“Trying to play matchmaker?”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for Samantha.”
He stiffened, letting her know she’d struck deep. He rolled off the bed and stood, putting plenty of space between them. “Marion might not be willing to help. Not given the way she feels about me right now.”
“She doesn’t hate you any more than you hate her.”
“Get that out of your crystal ball?”
She walked up to him and placed her fingertips on his collarbone. She wasn’t willing to accept his distance, and she wasn’t willing to let him push her away. “You were just a little boy, J.T. She must understand that you couldn’t have saved her any more than you could have saved yourself.”
“Save her? Tess, she won’t even admit it happened.”
“I know. It’s not uncommon for incest survivors—”
He flinched at the word, his face shuttering.
“You can’t even say it, can you?” she whispered.
“I don’t . . . I don’t . . . It’s an ugly word.”
Her gaze remained on his face, her fingers rubbing his shoulders.
“I still see it all so clearly,” he muttered. His shifted beneath her touch, his body wired with tension. “She tells me it never happened, but I can still remember every detail of it. All the times he beat us. All the times she stood at the foot of my bed and begged me to save her—”
He pushed away from Tess.
“J.T.—”
“Stop it!” His right hand raked his hair. “It happened. We grew up in spite of him. And I hope he rots in hell.”
“But you still love your sister,” she said softly.
His hand balled into a fist. His jaw worked. “Yeah,” he said, staring out the window. “And she still thinks I’m a loon.”
“I don’t think so, J.T. I think she’s beginning