Page 14 of Now or Never
“That helps!” Kenna said, excited but not so loud she would startle this woman. “We won’t need one right away, with this one being little. But eventually, we’ll want to know she’s going somewhere that’s safe, where she can learn and make friends.” She grinned so wide it felt stiff, and she hoped it didn’t look totally fake. “This is probably an imposition, but we’ve been out a while and I really have to pee.” She exhaled a flustered breath. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”
Kenna started to step inside before she was even finished with the question. As if Megan would never have any intention of saying no. Anyone with a good-willed heart would let a pregnant woman in a door rather than force her to walk into it, and she banked on the fact Megan wasn’t a bad person. Kenna had seen the way she cared for the child who’d come home.
The way she hadn’t left the house.
How she’d waited for him to come in and they’d embraced the way they did.
This was a woman who cared for her child no matter what was swirling around her. She was a protector. A survivor.
“You can’t come in.” Megan froze, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
Kenna looked around the dark interior of the house, dimly lit by lights overhead with missing bulbs. The hallway was stark but clean, nothing on the walls. Thin old carpet covered the hallway floor.
“Megan, we know who you are,” Jax said in a soft voice. “Are you safe here? Do you need help?”
Kenna turned to the living room, where the little boy sat on the floor with his back to the wall. Knees curled up. An old metal train with faded paint was on the floor beside him. He held a small plastic bowl, two Cheerios in his fingers. He stared at her.
She stepped up to the threshold and saw there was only one recliner, over which someone had draped a US Army blanket. No couch. A coffee table beside the recliner had an ashtray on it, which accounted for the cigar smell in here. Big TV on the wall, wires hanging down connecting to the box on the bookcase under it.
Nothing on the walls.
Plenty of people didn’t have much material wealth, and abuse happened in every stratus of society. Kenna bit her lip.Don’t assume.Poverty didn’t mean Megan wasn’t happy with her life, or finding contentment in her choices. So what if she and the kid had nowhere to sit.
Kenna wanted to look through the whole house and get a complete assessment of the situation. Instead of doing that, she turned back to Megan. “My name is Kenna Banbury and I’m a private investigator. This is my husband, Oliver Jaxton. He works with me. We’re a team.”
“Are you even pregnant?” Megan stared at her with a hard expression.
“Yes, I am.” Kenna gave her a moment with that. “We do want to help you. But we’d also like to ask you about Samantha Ambrose.”
Megan flinched, but it was barely visible. Kenna might not have seen what she thought she did.
“I’d ask if we can talk, but it doesn’t look like there’s anywhere to sit in here.” Kenna waved to the living room. “Do you have a kitchen table?”
“You can’t be in here.” Megan bit her lip.
Jax held out his hand, and Kenna clasped it, though they were further from each other than she’d have liked. “If you or your son are in danger, or scared about anything, or if you feel trapped…we can help you.”
Megan shook her head vigorously.
Kenna took a wild guess. “There are places you can go he won’t find you.”
“No, there aren’t,” Megan whispered. “I don’t know you guys. You need to leavenow.”
“Are you expecting him to come home?” Jax’s hand tightened around Kenna’s. “If you get your things and bring your son, we can leave. Hewon’tfind you.”
“I can’t leave the house.”
“Megan, I can’t leave you here,” Kenna said. “Not knowing you’re in danger. The police?—”
“You don’t understand. Ican’t leave the house.” She gasped but didn’t say more.
Kenna wanted to ask whatDominatuswanted with the two of them, or if it was because their captor held enough sway to get what he wanted. The homeowner was the one who was supposed to have been Megan’s boyfriend at the time of Samantha’s death. If he was dead, and not the one who forced them to be here, then who was the person keeping her living in this fear?
Jax said, “We know you didn’t even leave to meet your son at the bus.” He paused. “I’m guessing you don’t even check the mailbox.”
Megan stared at him, no unshed tears in her eyes. Just a slender woman with straight shoulders who had withstood who-knew-what in the past six years.
“Does he hurt your son?” Jax was fighting his frustration.
