The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [95]
Now he didn’t have time to be too neat. He got the worst and arranged furniture over the rest. Then he quickly stripped down to the jeans and T-shirt he wore beneath the bulky uniform, tossing the uniform in the washing machine next to the kitchen. He would turn on the washer before leaving. Removing his wig, he also took the time to scrub the makeup off his face—he didn’t want to scare Sam. Following that same vein of thought, he found one of Difford’s old baseball caps to wear over his bald head.
He’d forgotten Difford’s affection for baseball. Had he remembered, he would’ve killed the lieutenant with a bat just for irony’s sake.
One twenty A.M. Jim scrubbed his arms and hands in the sink, then placed the coffee mug inside. He’d left prints everywhere. It was the nice thing about being him now—he no longer had to hide. He could leave fingerprints, hair, blood, wherever the hell he wanted. As an escaped convicted murderer, his job was even easier.
Finally he stood in the hallway before the closed door of Samantha’s room. His stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies, a unique sensation. He felt like he was about to ask out a girl for the first time.
He rubbed his hands on his thighs and decided he was ready.
He removed the kitchen chair, not hearing any movement on the other side of the door. Difford hadn’t made much noise. Jim had counted on Difford wanting to protect Samantha as much as he did. He twisted the doorknob and very carefully eased the door open.
And the silvery moonbeam illuminated the bed like a spotlight, accentuating her white-blond hair and spilling over her cheek.
Jim Beckett stared down at his little girl with awe, and his love for her bloomed in his chest.
Her eyes fluttered open, sleepy and innocent. Then they widened with shock. He silenced her impending scream with a single finger pressed gently over her lips.
“Sam,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened more at the sound of his voice. “D-d-daddy?”
“Yes, baby.” He smiled. She looked unbearably lovely. She looked perfect.
“You came back.”
“Of course I came back, Sammy. I came back for you. And we’ll never be apart again.”
J.T. SLIPPED OUT of bed and into the pool before sunlight. He swam one hundred laps, twenty-five butterfly, twenty-five backstroke, twenty-five breaststroke, and twenty-five freestyle. The chlorine stung the scratch on his cheek.
At last he pulled himself out of the pool and wiped the water from his skin with his hands. The sun was just beginning to peer over the horizon. He stood there for a moment, watching the rays gently weave into his mesquite tree and illuminate his garden.
He knew what he had to do next. He walked to Marion’s room.
Her doorway was open, as he figured it would be. The room was empty, as he’d known would be the case. He sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his hand over the pillow she must have hugged as she sobbed herself to sleep.
Merry Berry, I am so sorry.
“I should’ve killed him,” he said in the silent room. “I should’ve just killed him.”
He found himself in front of the open refrigerator, staring at four bottles of beer. Corona Extra Gold. Cold and smooth going down. Takes the edge off—isn’t that what you want, J.T.? Something to take the edge off.
Something to make you forget, because you never mastered denial like Marion did.
His hand reached in. He curled his fingers around the cool neck of elixir. So easy to pull it out. He could be drunk before the sun even got high in the sky.
He thought of Tess, still sleeping in his bed. He thought of the way she’d cradled his head between her breasts and stroked his hair. He thought of the feel of her lips, brushing his temple.
She was a fool, he thought angrily. Hell, maybe they were both fools.
His hand slid away from the beer bottle. He stalked back out to his pool and swam a hundred laps more.
AS HE WALKED back to the house towel-drying his hair, he heard the phone ringing. He didn’t pay it any heed. Tess emerged from the hall, her footsteps fast and urgent. She’d obviously been searching for him.
Once she spotted