was eighteen, graduated from high school, he wouldn’t be able to make her stay.
Somehow the rest of the afternoon passed, night fell, and Jamie was at home with John. Alone. Her aunt had left for the airport a few minutes before, and Jamie, having changed from her black dress to a pair of jeans, sweatshirt and tennis shoes, was hiding out in her room. Hoping she wouldn’t be noticed by the man she heard slamming things downstairs. Was it possible he actually felt some compassion for her? That he’d realize how much she was hurting and leave her be?
Studying her second-story window, she thought about climbing out. The bushes below were full enough to break her fall. She had nowhere to go, but that wasn’t what stopped her. It was knowing how bad things would be when John eventually got her back. He’d broken her arm the last time she’d used that window.
And then refused to allow her to see a doctor to have the arm set. It had healed eventually. But it still ached whenever she used it too much.
She’d rather just take her chances on being slapped around until John had finished venting his rage. Bruises didn’t hurt much after a day or so. And they didn’t last.
“Jamie!”
Her heart skidded to a stop. The bellow was ugly. Oh, God, here it comes.
“Yes?” She ran quickly to the top of the stairs, eager to appease his anger, not intensify it.
He was such a bastard for doing this to her.
“Get down here now!”
Fear was a familiar companion, yet it still grabbed her by the throat as she hurried downstairs. Maybe this was one of the times he’d be content just to holler at her for a while.
Her long permed hair, tied back in its familiar ponytail, bounced on her back with the force of her descent. And then she was at the door of his study. God, if you’re around, please go in there with me.
“What?” she asked, forcing herself to sound amenable. She leaned against the door frame.
“Don’t ‘what’ me.” John’s handsome face was twisted in a sneer. “You know we have some things to discuss.”
Not sure what to say, what to expect, Jamie just stood there. She knew from his tone that she wasn’t in his good graces. She just didn’t know why. Or how bad it would be. She didn’t move, barely breathing, not wanting to do anything that might further raise his ire.
“Your mother being gone changes things.” He sat behind his desk, going through papers. He was still wearing his dark suit from the funeral, but he’d removed the jacket, loosened the tie. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his forearms.
Trembling, Jamie couldn’t take her eyes off the muscles that flexed in those forearms with each object he moved.
“Now that your mother’s gone, I owe you nothing,” he said. “Not a stitch of clothing, not a meal or a bed.”
Was he going to kick her out? Adrenaline pumped through her as she straightened in the doorway, waiting for him to continue. If he kicked her out, she’d know there was a God after all.
“I’ve been supporting you all these years out of the goodness of my heart, out of love and devotion to your mother.”
If she hadn’t been so excited, suddenly, sensing freedom within her grasp, Jamie would have burned with rage at his lies.
Please let him kick me-out. She was barely aware that he’d stood up, that he’d walked to the front of his massive oak desk and rested his lean body against it.
She could get help if he kicked her out. There were places she could go—as long as she didn’t have to worry about him coming after her. As long as she was free from the lies, the threats. The violence. Loretta had a huge room. Jamie could probably stay there. She could finish school. Get a job. If he’d just let her go...
“But then, I wouldn’t be the man I am if I tossed your little butt out in the gutter where it belongs, would I?” he asked.
Of course not. Jamie’s heart sank. How stupid could she be? He wasn’t ever going to let her go. Because he’d look bad if he did. He could explain away her tripping on the stairs, falling during a family hike or being thrown from a horse. He’d never be able to explain leaving his seventeen-year-old stepdaughter homeless.
His eyes were gleaming as he watched her squirm in the doorway. Why did it always have to come to this? Why did she always end up reacting just the way he wanted her to? Like...like a helpless bug at his mercy?
“So, my dear daughter, you’re going to have to earn your keep.”
So, what else is new? The words almost escaped. She’d been doing the majority of the housework for years.
He came closer, slowly, gaining on her inch by inch, his height throwing a shadow on her in the doorway. Jamie didn’t want to shrink from him. She forbade herself to give him that satisfaction. Not anymore. Her mother had gone to her grave a beaten woman. Jamie wasn’t going to do the same.
“I’m curious.” He stopped, pinning her with his cold stare. “How does it feel knowing all of those people were crying today because of you?”
“What?” She shifted away from the door frame.
“You killed her,” John said.
His expression had softened and he smiled sadly as he gazed at her. Jamie’s heart began to thud so heavily in her chest it constricted her breathing. But she still didn’t shrink from him.
“I didn’t,” she whispered. She wasn’t going to let him convince her of something so horrible. She refused to accept any guilt. She’d risked her life for her mother—many times. Sadie Archer had been the one person in the world who loved her. Jamie would have killed herself before she ever did anything to hurt her mother.
“Of course you did,” John whispered hoarsely. He’d stopped a couple of feet in front of her and stood with his hands in his pockets. “Won’t do you any good to pretend, Jamie. You killed her as surely as if you’d put a gun to her head.”
“No!” Jamie felt the tears start to flow, deep inside, where no one could see them.
“That night you called to ask permission to stay later at the library.”
“You said I could.” Jamie hadn’t wanted to leave her mother alone with John, but he’d been in one of his nicer phases. And she’d needed to get a few more references for an English paper she was writing.
“Yes, well, unbeknownst to me, your mother had already left to get you.”
He was a raving lunatic, his story so obviously unfounded. “She knew where I sat in the library. If she’d come, she would’ve found me.”
“Her car broke down on the way.”
Thinking back to that night a couple of weeks ago, Jamie remembered her mother and John picking her up when the library closed. They’d been in John’s car.
She wasn’t sure where this was leading, but she was suddenly scared. Too scared to run. Too scared to move when John took
