Deceit

My head jerked up. No, no, not now.

I picked up the phone as if it were a ticking bomb. Peered with blurry eyes at the ID.

Melissa Harkoff’s phone number filled the screen.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The prepaid cell phone rang a second time. I clutched it, breathless. For a horrific second I couldn’t remember the false name I’d given Melissa.

Rain pummeled my car. The air around me thickened with humid heat.

The phone rang a third time. I punched on the line.

“Janet White, UPS.” My heart banged. I fought to keep my voice steady.

“Hi, this is Melissa Harkoff. You called about some package?”

“Uh, yes. Let me just retrieve that paperwork.”

“You said it’s from Whidbye Realty.”

I sat up straighter. Picked up my yellow pad with the addresses I needed written upon it.

“Here it is. Yes, Whidbye Realty, 2415 W. Sharon Street. Addressed to Melissa Harkoff at 820 Willmott. You have an updated address?”

“How’d you get my phone number?” Suspicion nicked her tone.

“We always ask for the addressee’s number, just in case something like this happens.”

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. It came away wet.

“Oh.” Melissa was silent a moment. “What is it?”

“What’s in the package? I have no idea. I just work for the delivery service.”

“I don’t know why they’d be sending me anything.”

“Miss Harkoff, do you want the package or not?”

“I don’t…What is that noise?”

I threw a look out the windshield and winced. “It’s raining hard. This building’s roof sounds like tin.”

Melissa paused. “I used to work at Whidbye.” She spoke the words as if thinking out loud.

“Maybe they’re sending you some personal items you left. Who knows? What’s your address, please?”

Silence.

“Miss Harkoff, I don’t have all day.”

“When will I get it?”

“Today, if you’ll just tell me where to deliver it.”

She breathed a sigh, indecision wafting over the line. I wanted to reach across cyberspace and pull the information from her tongue. Come on, Melissa.

“Okay. It’s 264 South Anniston. In San Jose.”

I grabbed my pen. “Two-sixty-four South Anniston.” I jotted it down on the yellow pad. “Will you be home?”

“Why would you ask that?”

Not good. “If you’re not home, is there a porch to leave the package on, where it’ll be safe from the rain?”

“Oh. Yeah. And I’ll be there to get it in a couple hours.”

A couple hours. It would be nearing sunset by then.

“Fine. I’ll try to get it on the right truck for you today. If I can’t, then look for it on Monday.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I hung up and closed my eyes. My heart galloped like some runaway colt. For a few minutes all I could do was breathe. The car felt so hot. I cracked the passenger window open, ignoring the fat splashes that punched onto the seat.

Thank God. I’d found Melissa.

I felt no elation, only sick relief.

The hardest part lay before me.

No wonder Melissa had kept quiet for six years. If Baxter wanted to silence me just because of that newspaper article, imagine how he’d threatened her. How in the world could I ever convince her to go public now? She’d take one look at me and run.

A couple hours, she’d said.

My insides trembled. No way could I confront Melissa in this weakened state. I needed food. And a lot more than that. I needed a plan that would save my life.

TWENTY-NINE

JUNE 2004

Melissa’s epiphany the night of the dinner party grabbed onto her and wouldn’t let go. The next day in church, while the pastor’s sermon droned on—something about real love versus false—Melissa’s mind fixed upon her new goal to make something of her life, starting now. And thanks to information from Baxter she’d overheard at the party, she had the perfect idea of how to go about it.

After church Nicole asked if Melissa wanted to hang out on Wednesday. “A bunch of us are going to go to a movie or something. Want to come?”

Melissa gave her a wide smile. “Oh, thanks. Maybe I can. But I need to check with Linda first. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Truth was, she needed to check with Baxter.

She hit the subject head-on in the kitchen as the three of them sat down to eat chicken salad and fruit for lunch. No use looking hesitant. That wouldn’t get her anywhere.

“Baxter, I want to come work in your office.”

Linda’s eyebrows raised. She slid a look at her husband. Baxter stopped chewing for a moment, then swallowed. “Oh, yeah? You want to learn about real estate?”

“Yes. I’ll help you do anything you need. You don’t have to pay me. You do enough for me already. I want to pay you back somehow. And in the meantime I’ll learn.”

Baxter shook his head. “You don’t have to pay me back for anything, Melissa. You don’t have to pay either of us back.”

His final sentence zinged through her nerves. Melissa forced herself not to look away. Had she singled him out too much over Linda?

“That’s right, you don’t.” Linda patted her arm.

Melissa put down her fork. “Okay, I don’t, but I want to. I’ll still help you all I can in the house, Linda. But during the day I don’t want to just hang out with friends. I want to do something, learn something. I have to find a way to make my own living some day.” Her gaze dropped, and she traced a finger on the edge of her plate. “I mean, until I came here I had to fight just to survive, you know?”

Silence. She sensed Baxter and Linda exchanging glances, but she didn’t look up.

“Well.” Baxter cleared his throat. “I think we can work something out.”

Melissa’s head jerked up. “Really?” Excitement filled her voice.

He nodded. “Just so happens I lost my office assistant on Friday. I asked our guests last night if anyone knew someone to take her place, but then we got off on some other subject.”

“You’re kidding. That’s perfect! I mean, I’m sorry you lost her, but…”

Baxter smiled. “You don’t look sorry.”

“Okay, I’m not.” Melissa smiled back. “But I’ll make you glad she’s gone. I’ll work twice as hard. And for free!”

“Melissa. I’m not going to have you work for free.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to be paid, really. You buy me so many clothes already—”

“Who buys you the clothes?” Linda’s mouth curved.