6
Christy cruised the Queens Boulevard outer road, slowing as she passed in front of the bar. She spotted that damned Jerry Bethlehem's Harley out front. She'd learned this was his hang when he wasn't eating at Dawn's table at the Tower or home working on his latest video game.
She parked her Mercedes half a block down the street, facing the place. She'd used this spot a number of times before; the perfect vantage point because it offered a clear view of the front entrance.
She turned off the engine and checked her watch as she settled in for her vigil. Dawnie's shift at the Tower didn't end for another hour. She'd most likely be hooking up with Jerry after work. The question was: What would Jerry be up to until then?
The place was called Work. Ha ha. Very funny. Honey, I'm really busy at Work and wont be home till late.
She'd peeked in there a while baek. It was a sort of eatery-bar—pool hall. Not the sort of place she'd expect a well-heeled guy like Jerry to hang out. His expensive clothes didn't exactly match the decor—or the other patrons for that matter. She couldn't imagine any of them going home to a Rego Park condo a tenth as luxurious as his. Christy had never been inside, but she knew the complex—very tony—and Dawn had gushed about all the 'state-of-the-art electronics it housed.
Bethlehem ate lunch at Work almost every day and hung out at the bar when he wasn't stalking Dawn at the Tower.
But every once in a while he'd disappear. Like yesterday. Where did he go? That was what Christy intended to learn.
This was what they called a stakeout, right? Mike Gerhard should be here, doing this. Or that new guy, Jack. Maybe she could convince him to take over after he located Gerhard.
She had a good feeling about Jack—never did get his last name. How had she let that slip by? His reluctance to get too involved inspired a strange sort of trust. He didn't seem to be money motivated. None of that grubbing attitude: Sure-sure, I'll do—or pretend to do—anything you want, just pay me. Oh, he wanted to get paid, but she sensed it was as much to set a value on his efforts as to make a living.
The thing was, someone had to watch Bethlehem. Someone had to catch him in the act.
What act, she didn't know, but he was hiding something. Had to be. As soon as she'd set eyes on him, standing in her living room, she'd sensed something wrong. Maybe it was the strange way he'd stared at her when he walked in. Whatever it was had sent ripples of revulsion through her…
… and yet, he was sexy in a way. The lazy Southern drawl, the longish hair, the long, lean frame, the mystery of what lay behind that beard, the mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to pierce you…
Maybe it was that bad-boy thing. He had a certain sense of danger about him that, in another time, another place, might have attracted her. But to know that it was aimed at her daughter, attracting her… well, that was too much to bear.
Maybe because he'd been with her little girl—not yet with her in that sense back then—just… with her. She'd wanted him gone, wanted to kick him out on his ass, but she couldn't. They'd only go elsewhere, and she wanted him where she could keep an eye on him.
Finally they did go elsewhere. To his place. And once they got there she knew they wouldn't limit their relationship to working on video games. At least not for long.
The thought sickened her.
Not that she was a prude. Anything but. She'd lost her virginity at sixteen and had got it on with half a dozen different boyfriends in high school before… never mind. She didn't want to think about that. But the operative word was the boy in boyfriend. They were boys—her age or maybe a year older. They were all growing and learning the sexual ropes together. This Bethlehem creep had the benefit of a whole extra lifetime of experience beyond Dawn's. What was he into? What was he teaching her? What was he making her do?
Don't you hurt my little girl.
And she knew he was going to hurt her. Not emotionally, by dumping her after he'd used her up. Christy could help Dawn through that. No, worse. He wanted something from her. But what? And why Dawn?
Dawnie… how could an Ivy League—bound girl act so dumb? And sound dumb too. Despite all her reading and all her A's in English, she'd fallen into the "like" and "totally" habit of her peers. Really, with laws about everything else, why couldn't they pass a law about the number of times someone could use "like" per day?
So she'd started fining Dawn—twenty-five cents for every time she misused "like." It had worked, making her conscious of it, and her use trailed off. Christy had just instituted a similar program to wipe out "totally" when that man came along.
Did he care about Dawnie—at all?
She couldn't believe that, and so she needed something on this cradle-robbing bastard.
She hoped tonight would be the night he'd make a mistake. She'd follow—
There he was, sauntering out of the bar, talking on his cell phone as if he didn't have a care in the world—and all the while making a wreck of Dawnie's.
And yet, watching the sinuous way he moved, the swing of his shoulders, the twist of his narrow waist, she couldn't help feel a pull. She understood why Dawn was so gaga over him. He was sexy—no other word for it. He could have just about any woman he wanted.
So why on Earth did he want Dawn?
Unlike so many other mothers, Christy had never kidded herself about her daughter's looks. Dawnie was plain. Those words would never leave her lips. In fact she'd always told Dawn she was beautiful. And inside she was. But the girl wasn't stupid. She had a mirror. And knowing she wasn't pretty had had its effect, pushing her into academics instead of boys. Which was wonderful. Plenty of time for guys later.
All of which made her a sitting duck for a magnetic guy like Jerry Bethlehem.
Again the question: Why Dawn?
Not knowing the answer made Christy's skin crawl.
She watched him hop on his Harley. He had a sporty little Miata too, but tonight he was using the bike. She watched him adjust his helmet and wished he didn't wear one. Then she could pray he got hit by a car and wound up brain dead. Or maybe she'd run him off the road and—
The thought shocked her. Where had that come from?
From deep in her gut. If push came to shove, she'd do anything to keep Dawnie safe from him. A mother protected her own.
She remembered her pregnancy. She'd been single and scared, with her mother royally pissed that she was knocked up. She'd planned to give up the baby, but the instant she'd held her little girl in her arms she felt herself change. She was going to find a direction, make a life for herself and this baby. It was the beginning of a new day, a new life for her, and so she'd named the baby Dawn.
Trite, yes. But she'd been Dawn's age at the time and it had seemed like the right thing to do.
Up ahead, Bethlehem revved his engine and took off with a roar. Christy followed and cursed as she saw him head toward Queens Boulevard.
She followed him to Rego Park and, sure enough, he was heading for the Tower. She slowed as he pulled into a narrow spot at the curb. Dawn ran out to meet him and give him a big hug and a long kiss. Christy's stomach turned as she watched him fondle her buttocks.
She had to get something on this son of a bitch.
God, she wished she could follow him some night to a house where he visited a wife and kids. Wouldn't that be great? Threaten him with exposure if he didn't leave Dawn alone. Show her proof if he didn't heed the warning.
Yes, the truth would hurt her little girl, but the truth was the truth, and shouldn't be hidden.
Except in my case, she thought.
That was the danger in hiring a detective. He might broaden the investigation, uncover things better left hidden, start asking questions she didn't want to answer.