Baby On The Run

“Stop talking,” she ordered as the past taunted her.

I want to help you get better.

She’d believed her abusive husband. Only after she’d left Anthony did she understand how his words had been an insidious and powerful manipulation.

“At least let me call someone for you,” Matthew said.

You need help.

She almost told the janitor to shut up again, but decided to speak the truth instead. “Stop pretending to be my friend. I heard you tell Billings that I was at the center tonight.”

“I had to. Your car was a hundred yards away.”

Her car. She’d never get it back. They’d impound it, making it harder for her to flee the city.

Which meant she’d have to rely on strangers for help until Chloe’s cousin could rescue her.

No, you don’t need rescuing any longer.

The janitor turned left.

“Where are you going? I said take me to the truck stop.” Fear skittered across her shoulders. Was he going to try to overpower her? In front of Eli?

“We’re being followed,” he said.

She snapped her gaze out the back window. Headlights shone through the dark night. “That could be anyone.”

“They’ve been behind us since we left the center.”

“Just get me to the truck stop.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he drove through town, she scolded herself for trusting him in the first place, but Matthew had seemed like an innocuous sort of man. She’d heard he’d moved to town after serving in the military and that he’d even joined the local church. That in and of itself would have made most people trust him.

Yet Anthony had been a church leader, a pillar of the community—and behind closed doors, he was a monster.

Like Chloe’s husband?

Like the man driving the truck?

Why did Jenna attract violent men? Maybe her stepfather had been right when he’d branded her a stupid and weak girl, a lost cause.

“No,” she ground out.

“Ma’am?”

She snapped her attention to him. “What?”

“You said something?”

She clenched her jaw. This was not the time for the past to taunt her. Making bad choices when it came to romance seemed to be a habit for Jenna, starting with Mike in high school, and then Anthony. It had taken two years and a miscarriage to get away from her abuser. Tonight, three years after her escape, she found herself right back in the eye of the storm.

This time she’d get it right. She’d protect her friend’s little boy.

Her friend. Chloe.

The image of Chloe collapsing on the floor flashed across Jenna’s mind. Still in shock about the loss, Jenna had had no time to process or grieve. Chloe wouldn’t want her to be distracted; she’d want Jenna to put all her energy into saving Eli.

Chloe was a young mother who’d become Jenna’s best friend in town after they’d met on the development committee for the foundation. They’d joined an exercise dance class and regularly gone out for pie afterward. They had the same sense of humor, the same view on life.

It seemed they had other similarities as well—their bad choices in men.

The janitor made a right turn, heading in the opposite direction of her requested destination.

“Hey.” She tapped the barrel of the gun against his head.

“Look, trust me or don’t trust me. I don’t care,” he said. “At least let me lose the tail before I drop you at the truck stop.”

“You can drop the knight-in-shining-armor act. I’m not buying it.”

“Then shoot me.”

She snapped her gaze to the rearview mirror. He pinned her with fierce blue eyes.

“Shoot me or let me lose them. Your choice,” he said.

She glanced nervously at Eli. She couldn’t pull the trigger with a baby in the car.

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t pull the trigger, period.

But this creep didn’t have to know that.

“Fine, lose them,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sped up, and she jerked back in her seat. She glanced beside her at Eli. The motion hadn’t disturbed him from his restful slumber as he sucked on his Binky and clung to his bear.

The janitor navigated down side streets and back up an alley. She clutched the gun grip to stay grounded, but wished it were something else, something spiritual. Her fingers automatically went to the base of her neck, remembering the dove charm she’d worn as a child, a charm that symbolized the Holy Spirit.

A charm she’d ripped off and thrown away as a teenager after she’d lost faith in an absent god.

She thumbed the silver ring on her right hand instead, the braided knot given to her by Patrice, who’d taken Jenna in and helped her heal after she’d left Anthony. The interwoven strands of silver represented connectedness, a reminder that Jenna was never alone, that she could always call on Patrice and the guardian network for support.

Matthew pulled onto the expressway. They were leaving town and heading in the right direction.

“We’re good,” he said.