Lots and lots of money.
And a safe place for Paula.
That would be the hardest part to fix.
But Annette would get the job done. Somehow.
Her gaze locked on the man once more. His beard shadowed jaw distracted her. Shouldn’t have. But did. His hair was tousled from running his fingers through it too many times. Made hers twitch with the need to do the same. Not normal for her. And definitely not smart. Not smart at all.
“I was born in Knoxville.” She folded her arms over her chest. More something to do with her hands than anything else. “Katrina, Kat Baxter, my mother—”
“Was a prostitute,” Carson interrupted. “I already know that part.”
She shook her head. He had no idea. “You know what’s in your file. You don’t have the whole story.”
He waved a hand for her to continue.
A good stiff drink would be nice about now but she resisted. She needed her head clear for this. In her profession, giving up a secret, even one, was career suicide. If not personal suicide. There were people who would kill to uncover what she knew ... and many more who would do the same to ensure it stayed buried.
“My mother had a sister. Her name was Margaret. She died of cancer when I was five. My mother took in her only child, a girl three years older than me.”
“Paula,” he guessed. “The feds figured out that part after I tracked down Delta Faye Cornelius.”
Fear snaked around Annette’s heart. “They know about Paula?” God, she had to move quickly.
He held up a hand. “They know she exists. They don’t know where she is. Delta Faye couldn’t even remember her name.”
Annette relaxed a little. At least that was something. But someone damned sure knew.
Then a frown worried her brow. “You located Delta Faye?” Annette hadn’t thought of her in years. Was surprised the woman was still alive. Annette wasn’t particularly worried about whom she might have talked to besides Carson. The one thing Delta Faye had always been especially good at was keeping secrets. If she’d decided to talk to Carson, she hadtrusted him on some level. That was the first rule of the street. You didn’t talk to anyone you didn’t trust, and you trusted almost no one.
“She sends her regards,” Carson offered.
Annette nodded. It felt weird hearing about someone from that time in her life. Back to her story. “There was never any official documentation. Paula, being low-functioning autistic, wouldn’t have really benefited from school, so that was pointless. Mainly, Kat was afraid they would take both of us away from her if she was ... investigated.”
So long ago. Feelings Annette would rather not have felt again in this lifetime flooded her. She hated her past.
“For a few years things were okay. I took care of Paula while Kat worked at night. In the daytime I went to school and Paula stayed locked in our room.” That alone should have been a red flag regarding Kat’s mothering skills, but Annette had been a kid. Seemed normal to her. “Then Reggie came into the picture.”
Carson’s eyebrows raised. “Reggie?”
“A new boyfriend.” Annette walked to the wall of windows that overlooked what the city called progress to the natural beauty beyond. She loved this view; nature’s struggle against progress reminded her of her own struggle to survive. “My father abandoned us when I was four. Kat had managed a boyfriend here and there but nothing that lasted more than a week or so. But”—Annette forced back the worst of the memories—“Reggie was different. He liked the idea of having Kat and two other sources of entertainment.”
“You were what by this time? Eight? Nine?” His tone oozed with disgust.
“Ten, but that didn’t matter.” The burn in her eyes infuriated her all the more. She hardened her heart in defiance of her own emotions. “It was what he did to Paula that killed me, inch by inch. When I turned twelve and worked up the nerve to fight him, he started to beat me. And Paula. He knew I’d do anything to keep him from hurting her.” Annette hugged herself tightly. She had never told anyone this part.“Our neighbor was a big gardener. She left her pruning shears outside one day and I took them. Hid them under my pillow.”
Judging by Carson’s expression, he knew where this was going.
“One night ... I couldn’t take it anymore. So I pulled out the pruning shears with the intention of killing him but he knocked them out of my hand.” She closed her eyes, shuddered at the memories. “Paula picked them up and ...” Annette swallowed the bitter taste of misery. “While he was fucking me, she buried them in his back.”
But it was her mother’s reaction that finished destroying any emotion Annette had still possessed. “Kat came into the room, saw what we’d done, and took us to the Walmart and left us there. We never saw her again.”
“That’s when you went into the foster care system.”
She nodded. Annette would never forget that day. “At first they put Paula and me together, but the family couldn’t handle her autism and the idea that she could be violent. The police had ruled Reggie’s death self-defense, but still, Paula wasn’t wanted. So they moved us to another family.” She made a sound; it wasn’t pleasant. “The man of the house took up right where Reggie had left off.”
“Damn.”
