There was a moment of silence, of confusion. “But you’d tell me if you did hear something, right? You’d tell me if someone bothered you.”
No answer.
“Dustin! You could get Mom in a lot of trouble. Do you understand that?”
“Mom needs to be set free. You both do.”
“Stop talking like that. You don’t even know what’s going on.”
“I know it has something to do with me, and I don’t like it. I’m tired of seeing the fatigue in her face, Phil. I’m tired of being a burden.”
Jasmine was dying to hear the rest of the conversation, but she knew Romain wouldn’t wait more than a minute or two before taking some kind of action, which would interrupt what she was hearing, anyway. It’d be better not to give herself away, better to escape with what she already had in her possession. With any luck, the missing address book and photo wouldn’t be noticed for several days.
Stepping into the hall, she tiptoed down the stairs and made her way as quietly as possible to the front door. There was no sound as she opened it, but she nearly ran into Romain, who’d just raised his hand to knock. Making a quick gesture to indicate silence, she noted his expression of relief as she shut the door behind her. Then she grabbed his hand and they both ran for the truck.
Romain wanted to go back to Portsville and, after their close call in the Moreau house, Jasmine didn’t argue. He liked the idea of putting some distance between them and New Orleans. He knew they needed a safe place to recoup, to sleep. But he had little desire to speak on the ride home. Jasmine seemed eager to figure out what the items she’d taken might mean in relation to her sister’s kidnapping and talked a lot about the possibilities, but all Romain could think about was returning to the truck to find her gone.
Plagued with visions of Phillip pulling her out of the truck and strangling her, then stuffing her body in the trunk of his car, he’d felt just as helpless in that moment as he had when Adele went missing. If Phillip had dragged her off, what could Romain have done about it? Almost nothing. Like Adele, Jasmine would’ve been dead before he could even try to save her. And dead was forever.
Romain had been planning to force his way into the house to search. But if he hadn’t found her, he couldn’t have counted on the police for help. They believed he’d shot Francis. The authorities would be so busy protecting the Moreaus’ civil rights they’d do nothing until there was actual proof of Jasmine’s disappearance, giving Phillip all the time he needed to dispose of her body. And then it’d be too late.
It hadn’t turned out that way. But it could have. And that was enough to remind Romain that he didn’t want to care. About anyone. Least of all a woman who was asking for trouble.
“What’s wrong?” Jasmine finally broke into his thoughts.
Romain wasn’t in the mood for confrontation. Slinging one arm over the steering wheel, he shot her a forbidding look.
“That’s not an answer,” she said.
“What do you think is wrong?” he asked. “You had no business going into that house. You were supposed to wait in the truck.”
“You’re still upset about that?”
That was no small thing. It’d scared the hell out of him. He almost said, “I can’t take care of you if you won’t let me!” And then he realized she didn’t expect him to take care of her. He was the one who wanted to protect her, regardless the loyalty he felt to Pam. “I’m not upset,” he lied.
“Yes, you are. You haven’t said more than two words since we left.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You could tell me what you and Dustin were talking about.”
He knew he should tell her and be done with it, but that moment of sheer panic still rankled. “Or maybe you could tell me why you didn’t stay put.”
She glared at him. “Why do you think?”
“Because you’re reckless? Because, for some strange reason, you can’t appreciate danger and stay the hell away from it? Because you think you’re bulletproof, that it can’t happen to you, only to other people? Well, I’m here to tell you it can happen, damn it! It happened to me, didn’t it?”
He thought she was going to shout back at him. But her chest lifted as if she’d just taken a deep breath, and she reached out to touch his forearm. “I’m fine, okay?
I’m right here, alive and well.”
Embarrassed that she’d read through his tirade so easily, he shook her off.
“Stop it. You don’t mean anything to me. I don’t care about anyone. Not anymore.”
She turned to stare through the front window, but she didn’t raise her voice. “I scared you, and for that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, okay? I did it because you scared me first.”
He didn’t want understanding or even explanations. He wanted a target.
Spotting a motel off to one side of the road, Romain slammed on his brakes and pulled into the parking lot.
Jasmine braced herself with a hand on the dashboard and one on her seat belt, but he didn’t bother to apologize. “What are you doing?” she asked, still maddeningly calm. “Where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere. I’m leaving you here. I’ll give you the money you need to get out of the mess you’re in, and that’s it. I don’t want anything else to do with you.”
Finally, some real anger sparked in her eyes. “Why? Because I know you care about me, even though you don’t want to? Because I saw the relief on your face when you found me at the door?”
“I’d be relieved to see anyone at that door. Especially anyone stupid enough to go in knowing a man had been murdered there.”
“You went in!”
“I can defend myself!”
“Like the man in the cellar defended himself? What are you going to do against a bullet?”
The tires ground in the gravel as he stopped and shoved the gearshift into Park.
He opened his door, but she caught his arm. “Tell me something, Romain. How are you letting your first wife down just because you want to make love to me?”
“I don’t want to make love to you.”
“That’s a lie. You enjoyed our time together. You want more of it. And it’s eating you up. You feel guilty because you can go on living and loving and enjoying life and Pam can’t. But it’s not your fault that she got cancer, and it’s not my fault, either!”