She shook her head. The movement sent a thunderbolt of pain slamming into her eyes.

"Were you bad?"

Kate wondered how much he'd understood. She tried to bring some moisture back into her mouth. "Jack doesn't want me to take you back to your mommy and daddy. He wants us to stay here with him."

"I wanted to go in the car. Where's he gone?"

"To get groceries."

The shutter banged behind them. Kate jumped and yelped.

"He said I could have ice cream." Tommy sat on the floor next to her. "I don't like this house. It smells. There's no TV. I want my old house." Kate blinked back tears. It hurt to blink. Everywhere hurt. She wished she'd killed him. She should have killed him.

"Curl up next to me, sweetheart. Tell me about your old house and your other mommy and daddy."

"I'm not supposed to talk about them."

"You can tell me anything, but it will be a secret. We won't tell Jack." Kate heard the car start. Why hadn't she been able to do that? She bit back a cry as Tommy settled on her knee, twisting to get comfortable.

"You remember your real name?" she asked.

"My name is Sammy Howe. I'm three years old and I live with my mommy and daddy and my sister Kirin. She's a baby. My mommy is Amy and my daddy is Marshall, like a sheriff."

"Sammy's a great name, but I hope you won't mind if I call you Tommy. It's just that Jack will get mad if I don't and it's really important that we don't make him mad."

"Uh huh."

"I won't forget your real name, but I'll pretend I have. Okay?"

"Okay."

The noise of the car's engine faded to nothing. Kate began to pull at the handcuff, already knowing it was hopeless.

"Do you know when your birthday is, Tommy?"

"April. I'm three. I had a party with balloons and a dinosaur cake." Kate swallowed hard. "You sure it's in April?"

"Uh huh."

She had her baby in April. Kate pulled her hand against the metal cuff, trying to squeeze her wrist to half its size.

"What day in April, do you know?"

He shrugged. "Monday?"

Kate smiled. "Do you live in Las Vegas?"

"Yes."

"You weren't on vacation?"

"No."

"Have you always lived there?"

He nodded. "Think so."

"Do you know where?"

"In a house."

She smiled again. "What's your house like?"

"There's a swing in the backyard. It's red. Kirin's too little to use it." He talked and talked and Kate tried to file it all away.

Finally, they slept. Tommy lay with his head on her legs. Kate dreamed he was dying and she couldn't save him from a tumult of accidents, one piling on another, an avalanche of disasters. She'd managed to get them away from Jack, but crashed the car, and as they ran, they fell through the ice and Tommy slipped from her grasp. She dove in, found him, and they ran again to tumble over a cliff and he flew in the opposite direction, calling her name.

Kate woke with a start, the air trapped in her lungs, frightened he'd gone somewhere in the house and was in danger, but he was safe on her lap. She hurt.

When she breathed, she wanted to scream. Tears trickled down her face. She wished he'd killed her. Then Tommy stirred, opened his eyes and smiled at her and she felt terrible for even thinking of leaving him alone with Jack.

"It's okay, Tommy. Everything is going to be fine." Kate felt worse because he trusted her and everything wasn't fine. Jack might have gone for good.

"When's he coming back?"

"I don't know. I think we'd better be ready to spend the night in here, just in case. We need things before it gets really dark. The flashlight for a start. Do you know where it is?"

"Can't we put the light on and I can go and look?"

"No, the generator isn't working. If we want light, we have to have a flashlight."

"I think there's one on the counter."

"Can you get it?"

He nodded and got to his feet. Kate tried to think what else he could bring.

When he got back, she sent him for the pillow and comforter from his room, told him to drop it from the bunk. After he'd dragged them in, he ran out again. He came back with cookies, a bag of potato chips, a carton of apple juice and a jar of coffee. And her glasses.

"The coffee's for you."

Kate smiled. "Thank you, Tommy. You are a good boy. A brave boy. I want you to help me make a special bed in the tub."

"In the tub?"

"You need to stay in here with me. We can put a pillow in and fold the comforter and you can sleep in the middle. Pretend it's a submarine and you're off to explore the ocean."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I'll be all right on the floor."

"I'll get you a cushion."

He came back a few moments later pulling a red seat cushion behind him.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"We'll have a picnic, then I'll tell you a story."

"We haven't got a book."

"I don't need a book. I know lots of stories." By the time he fell asleep, Kate was almost hoarse. The house had grown colder, the chill creeping through her sweater and into her bones. She lay down and rested her head on the cushion, her arm caught above her head by a bracket holding the pipe in place. Maybe Jack would be back soon, she thought and just as quickly realized if he had an accident, he couldn't come back, and no one would ever find them.

Now, she didn't want him to be dead.

Jack accelerated away from the house with a roar, so she got the message he was leaving. A cloud of dirt boiled in his wake. If he hadn't left, he'd have fucking killed her. The car bounced into a pothole, throwing him to the side, banging his head and he cursed. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as he reran what had happened. His head throbbed incessantly as though she kept hitting him with that damned log. Jack ran his fingers over the tender lump. He still couldn't believe it. After all he'd done for her, and she tried to kill him?

When he reached the main road, Jack slowed. He didn't need a cop stopping him. He drove until he found a diner, snapped an order for a medium steak and fries at the counter and went to the bathroom to check his head. Where had the bitch found the nerve to hit him? He kicked the waste bin and sent it flying, scrunched up paper towels scattering over the floor. His only consolation was the look on her face when she'd seen him coming toward the car and known she couldn't get away. She was so fucking scared he was surprised she hadn't wet herself.

Jack splashed cold water over his face. At least he'd stopped bleeding. His fingers gingerly probed his scalp. He couldn't see what damage she'd done but it didn't feel like he needed stitches. He stared in the mirror and rearranged his face into a smile. He didn't want to be remembered, not for being an asshole anyway.

Back at the counter he beckoned the waitress.

"Sorry about that. I was desperate to get to the restroom." He gave the greasy-haired blimp a broad smile and a wink and received an ugly gap-toothed grin in return.

Jack watched TV while he ate, his headache growing steadily worse. He needed Advil. Kate probably did, too. He didn't think he'd hit her face. He hoped not.

Bruises anywhere else could be hidden. Jack shoved the empty plate away and reached for his coffee. This was a trip he intended to make anyway and it wouldn't hurt Kate to think about the consequences of what she'd done. There was little chance of anyone going out to the house before he returned.

Jack drove to Frisco and shopped at Wal-Mart, buying warmer clothes for everyone, toys for Tommy and hair dye. He swallowed the Advil while he shopped, but the headache had already lessened. Jack used Kate's money for everything. He didn't want his father to see activity on his credit card, since he was supposed to have cut it up. Jack had intended to stop in at a portrait studio to get two enlargements made of a wedding photograph, but Wal-Mart had a machine he could use himself. How convenient was that? Jack picked the photograph that looked the least like Kate and the most like him and grinned.

He filled out his father's address on a stiffened envelope and wrote on the back of the photograph: Kate and I got married in Las Vegas. She's sweet and wonderful. We moved to Echo Lake with our three year old, Tommy. Come spend Christmas with us. We'd like Tommy to meet his grandpa.

Jack read what he'd written. Well, Kate wasn't exactly being sweet and wonderful, but she fucking well would be by the time she met his father. The envelope went in the mail and the other photo into a wooden frame for Kate to cherish. Jack sniggered.

Packing the bags in the trunk, he drove off looking for a cheap motel. He wasn't ready to go back yet. Let Kate worry. She'd be so glad to see him, she'd do anything he asked. Jack sighed. Well, not yet, maybe. He paid cash for a room and access to the adult channel, and then dyed his hair back to its normal dark color. He swore so loudly when the chemical ran into his cut that some asshole banged on the wall.

Opening a can of beer, Jack settled in for an evening of porn.

Chapter Twenty.

Don Thompson's house didn't look anywhere near as big as Nathan recalled.

Still, he'd been an impressionable kid and now he was an embittered adult.

Nathan's business in Houston had ended quickly. He should have tried harder for the job, but his heart wasn't in it. It wasn't the reason he'd driven all the way here.

This was.

He'd called ahead and arranged to speak to Jack's father. The front door opened as Nathan walked from his car.

"If you'd come this way, Mr. Beranson," the housekeeper said.

Nathan followed her to the study. Don stood up from behind his oak desk. His hair might be white, but his eyes were sharp and clear. He reached to shake hands.

"Nathan, how are you? Something to drink? Coffee?"

"That would be great."

Don nodded at the housekeeper.

"Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you." Nathan sat on the brown leather couch. "I wanted to speak to Jack. Is he here?"

Don looked puzzled. "No, he lives in San Antonio."

"He's walked out of his job and quit his apartment."

"How do you know?"

"I've been keeping an eye on him."

Don gave a short laugh. "You mean following him. I told you before. Leave him alone."

"I need to speak to him."

"About what? Let me guess. Why he took Alison away from you? I can tell you why. Because he could. Jack's never needed a reason to do anything. If he wants something, he takes it."

"You sound like you admire that." Nathan didn't disguise the annoyance in his voice.

"How long have you been watching him?"

Nathan hesitated. This wasn't going to look good. "Since he came out of Ashlands."

"Ah." Don settled back in his chair. "What did you expect him to do? Commit a crime?"

"I just wanted to understand the sort of guy he is, to see if he makes a habit of wrecking people's lives."

"Does he?"