The Toddler's Tale. Rebecca Winters
from something or someone else.
“I’m Chelsea Markum, a television journalist here in town.”
Like a wounded animal emerging from the forest who’d been blinded by headlights, the woman stared at Chelsea while her thin body shook helplessly.
Chelsea recognized the look of fear well enough. Throughout her life she’d seen its reflection in her own mirror often enough before she put on another face to meet the world.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Traci,” she vowed in a firm tone. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll prove to you I can be trusted.” Grasping the other woman’s hand, she said, “Shall we sing another song? I think I can hear Betsy. She must have wakened again.”
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN JANELLE SAW PETEY come out of one of the dozens of farmacias along the busy, noisy street, she reached across the seat and undid the car door’s electric lock.
“Get in quick!”
As he slid behind the wheel, Janelle glared at the small sack. “You were supposed to buy enough baby food and diapers to last us a couple of weeks! What happened?”
“We’re in a lousy border town full of scalpers, honey. Our funds are going to have to last for a long time. There’s no way I’m paying the prices they’re charging. I got us enough stuff until we come to another town farther inland to do our shopping.”
“We’d better find one soon!” she shouted, then turned her head to the back seat to see if she’d wakened Chase. Relieved he was such a sound sleeper, she darted Petey another glance. “By now Megan has the FBI on our tail. We step one foot on Texas soil and that’s the end for both of us.”
He revved the engine before moving into the mainstream of traffic. “Then you shouldn’t have brought the kid along.”
“I stole him for us, you stupid idiot! Megan wants him back. She’ll pay any price we name. What we need to do is hide out for a few weeks. That ought to up the ante. When she’s at her most vulnerable, that’s the time we’ll make contact.”
“Well, we sure as hell aren’t sleeping in this car another night. I figure if we drive a hundred miles south, we can find us a nice little hacienda to hole up with maid service and all the tequila we can drink.”
“First we’ve got to get more baby food and diapers!”
“Hold your horses, Janelle. Before we do anything else I figure we should get the car painted. Then we’ll find a town where we can buy the things we want dirt cheap.”
Sometimes Petey surprised her. “That’s the first good idea you’ve had since we crossed the border.”
“Damn it, Janelle! Aren’t you forgetting those license plates I stole off that junk car last night? I thought that was pretty good thinking on my part if I say so myself.”
“They make me nervous. Now the Mexican authorities are going to get suspicious.”
“No, they won’t. They’re looking for drugs at the border. We’ll be out of this town before nightfall. Besides, as soon as our vehicle is a different color, we’ll get lost in the woodwork.”
“It’s too bad we didn’t figure out a way to get a lot more money out of the account Megan set up for us.”
“Stop complaining and make the most of it!” Petey said, squeezing her thigh. “Right now I’d like to pull up to a nice motel with a freezing-cold room, a six-pack of beer on ice and you in my bed.”
“You’ve got a one-track mind, Petey.”
Their whole scheme had been working so well. Megan Maitland had bought into the story that Petey was Connor O’Hara, returned to the family fold, and Janelle the loving mother of their son, Chase. They had her hook, line and sinker—until the real Connor showed up. And if only that blasted Lacy—the kid’s real mother—had cooperated and died after Janelle knocked her on the head and left her in the alley.
“Yeah? Well, I can recall at least one time this week when you couldn’t think about anything else, either, Janelle,” he teased.
“That’s not the point. Chase is with us, remember?”
“Relax. I told you I got enough stuff for him to last until tomorrow. First we get the car camouflaged.”
“I thought it took a long time to do a paint job!”
“Not when you’re on the run. A quick spray is all we need. Keep your eye out for a body shop. Then we’ll get out of here and find us a town where they won’t charge us an arm and a leg for what we need. Once we find ourselves the right pad, we can have some fun and start to plan how to get our hands on the rest of Megan’s money.” He hit his fist against the steering wheel. “Damn that Connor for showing up and ruining our plans!”
“I don’t know, Petey. The family was starting to get real suspicious when I kept stalling about the birth certificate. I just wish we’d had time to load up on the things we needed for Chase before we left Austin.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t need to knock out anybody to get to Chase. I might have done too good a job. Thank God he was at the day care. That was smart of you to ask Megan if you could take him for a walk in the park. Man, she must be kicking herself. I figure we did a first-rate job.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you say we enjoy life for a while now?”
“I don’t see how we can do that when we’re driving around in one of Megan’s cars.”
“In a couple of hours no one’s going to recognize it. We’ll tell the body shop to rip off all the chrome and trim.”
“Let’s paint it a faded dark blue like all the local cars around here. Nothing shiny. Maybe they ought to put on some rust spots just to make it look a little more beat up.”
“Smart thinking, Janelle. Hey—what’s that you’ve got there?”
“A quilting kit. I picked it up at Lana Lord’s baby shop.”
“Why?”
“To prove I was being a good mother. She showed me what to do. Do you know she thought it was real sweet of me to make a quilt for my baby? You should have heard her go on and on about the precious heirloom it would be someday.”
“That’s a laugh. So what are you doing with it now?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m looking at it because I’m bored!”
He flashed her a knowing glance. “I plan to keep you plenty busy for the next few weeks, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m talking about while we’re in the car.”
“Then I’ll turn on the radio for you.”
“No! It’ll wake Chase.”
“Janelle, honey, in case you didn’t notice, he’s already making noises and I can’t drive with a howling kid in the car.”
“All right. Don’t get in a panic.” She tossed the kit aside, then undid the seat belt and turned to give Chase a fresh bottle of apple juice from the sack. What a pain this trip was turning out to be.
BETSY STARTED to whimper again. Traci cocked her head to listen. Like Max Jamison had said, as long as Betsy was making any noise at all, Traci should be thankful her daughter hadn’t become unconscious.
“Please,” she urged Chelsea, gripping her hand tighter. “I can tell Betsy’s been responding to you. Try another one of those French songs. Betsy? It’s Mommy! Chelsea’s with me and she’s going to sing some more.”
As the other woman began the tune “Dominique,” Traci marveled at the television reporter