This is a continuing adaptation of Judith McNaught's novel, Perfect.

Trust Me

Chapter 5

Jax listened to the sounds of Brenda in the bedroom.  She had chosen the one at the back of the house.  It had a view of the mountains that was completely unobstructed, though he doubted she would be prone to appreciating it much.  It was the largest bedroom with the largest bathroom, but he could have cared less.  It was also the last bedroom he and Miranda had stayed in when they’d last visited.

He put his hands on his shoulders and massaged them to relax the tension in his muscles.  It didn’t do much good, but he could feel himself beginning to relax.  Of course, there would never be a time when he was totally relaxed, but anything was better than the past six hours.  It was almost ten-thirty, he noticed as he looked at his new watch.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he allowed himself a slight indulgence in the luxuries he was experiencing for the first time in two years.  Just to wear a watch was something he never thought he’d miss until it was gone.  In Pentonville, it had been prison blue jeans and white canvas tennis shoes, not to mention the tattered jackets that barely provided them with a shield from the wind.  Now, he was wearing his first real pair of jeans and boots in two years. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he shut off that part of his brain for a little while.  He fumbled for the car keys in the bottom of the duffle bag, holding them for a few moments in his hand when he found them.  He didn’t want to get rid of them altogether.  It might be helpful to have a vehicle if their location became suspect.  So the issue became where he could put them that Brenda wouldn’t have cause to look for them, the keys and the battery for her cell phone.  He knew she was going to try, it was a simple fact of her hostage state.  Twirling them idly, Jax walked down into the great room and over to the bar.

Crystal decanters of various liquors sparkled under the bar lights.  Pouring himself a glass of scotch, he merely held it, without taking a drink, as he walked over to the picture windows that looked over the mountains before him.  He almost felt at home, as if this was just another winter vacation.  In truth, it had been three years since he had last been here and he had no idea how long it had been since anyone else had been here.  The keys made a soft jingling sound that brought him back to the present time.

There was a safe in one of the bedrooms, but he couldn’t remember the combination.  The large freezer where they could store a month’s worth of food was out in the garage, but that was too obvious and she might find them if she got ambitious enough to cook for herself.  The option of going outside to put them in the shed or, like the key he had used to get in the house, in a planter was unappealing in the dark.  Finally, a reasonable location came to him and he slid the keys into his pocket.

Returning his gaze to the windows, he finally took a long sip of his drink.

Brenda lifted her head from the pillow at the sounds of a person talking coming from the great room.  She hadn’t been sleeping.  There was no way she could ever get to sleep in this house.  She’d laid down on top of the covers on the bed.  It was certainly a comfortable enough bed.  A white, goose-down comforter on top of pale purple silk sheets and a feather mattress cover was exactly what she expected from a house like this.

The room was beautiful by all means.  A large stone fireplace dominated the far corner.  Soft gray carpeting covered the huge room.  The muted pastel purple gave the room a feminine touch, but it was balanced by the mahogany furniture.  An oversized chair and ottoman sat by the fireplace facing the windows that looked out over the mountains.  The same color scheme continued in the bathroom where the gray carpet turned into gray marble.  A sunken Jacuzzi bathtub was the main fixture of that room.

None of the luxuries were the reason she chose the room, though.  It was the one that was furthest from both of the other two bedrooms.  This one was in its own secluded place and she was hoping that would give her a kind of assurance that her captor would not come visiting in the middle of the night.

Brenda got up at the sounds in the other room.  It didn’t sound like he was talking to himself.  It sounded like someone else’s voice, perhaps a newscaster or something of the sort.  Quietly, she opened the door and went back down the hallway.

As she neared the kitchen, she could hear the words coming from the news broadcast.

“In other news,” a female newscaster began, “the Pentonville State Penitentiary in upstate New York had an escape this afternoon.  Authorities are on the lookout for Jasper Jacks, a renowned businessman, who was convicted of first degree murder two years ago.  Mr. Jacks should be considered armed and dangerous.  Anyone with any information on this man should contact their local police immediately.  For more on this, we’ll go to a clip from a press conference given tonight at seven o’clock by the Pentonville warden.”

A male voice took over.  “This afternoon, at approximately three-thirty, Jasper Jacks and an inside accomplice staged an escape while in Westerville.  Mr. Jacks is thought to have escaped through the back of a grocery store where a bagboy claims he saw Mr. Jacks go down the alley behind the building.  A car with Mr. Jacks’s fingerprints on it was found in the parking lot of a truck stop a few miles up the road.  That car was found with a dead battery.  It is now believed that Jacks perhaps took over a young woman’s car and in turn, took the young woman as a hostage.  The only description we have of the young lady is that she has either brown or black hair and is about five-foot two inches tall.  She was driving a sports utility vehicle, either dark red or black.  The direction they were headed is unknown at this time.  If anyone has any information, please contact your authorities as soon as possible.  Mr. Jacks is believed to be armed.”

“Mr. Belford, what about the accomplice in the prison?  Do you have any information on him?”

“Ah yes.  The accomplice was Mr. Jacks’s cellmate for the last two years, Roy DiLucca.  DiLucca is, at present time, in the care of the Pentonville infirmary for injuries sustained during his detainment while Jacks escaped.  Mr. DiLucca was shot when he resisted the officers at the scene.  He is in serious condition.  It is unknown at this time the total extent of his involvement in the escape.”

An anguished groan and the sound of something falling to the floor brought Brenda’s attention back into the house.  She’d been standing in the kitchen, listening to the broadcast.  She hadn’t seen him in the room since the lights remained off, but she’d known he was there somewhere.  At the interruption, she hurried towards the great room. 

She finally saw him standing in the corner, by the windows.  His back was to her, lit by the glow of the television.  He had his head buried in his hands and his shoulders shook slightly.

“Are you okay?” Brenda asked softly.  The news station had returned to a weather forecast after again warning how dangerous the escaped convict was.  The little bit of light showed a crystal glass on the floor by his feet with a dark spot spreading beside it.  She crossed the room to pick it up, looking to see if it was broken.

As Brenda approached him, he moved further into the darkness, avoiding her.  “Fine,” came the tortured whisper.  He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

He was anything but fine, she thought to herself as she returned to the spot on the floor with a towel from the bar.  “Is there anything I can do?” she offered for lack of anything better to say.  She, of course, had no idea what he was upset about and absolutely no idea what to say to him.

“No,” he responded after a long time. 

His voice was constricted as if he was fighting to gain control of himself.  Brenda clicked off the television since the station had started a sitcom rerun.  “Okay, then,” she said, mostly to herself.  She hung around for another minute or so to see if he would say something, but when he didn’t, she headed back up the steps towards the bedroom at the back of the house.

Turning once to look at him again, she saw, in the light from the kitchen, that he had turned to watch after her, lifting his head from his hands.  She could see the fatigue in his features, but what surprised her more were the slight streaks on his cheeks and his now red-rimmed eyes.  They hadn’t been there before.

Jax watched as Brenda returned to her bedroom.  It was obvious she hadn’t been sleeping if she had heard the television even though the volume was low.  He hadn’t been able to resist hearing the news of his escape.  He needed to hear if Roy was alright and if everything had gone as they had planned.  Apparently it hadn’t.

Swearing viciously to himself, he flopped down on the corner of one of the couches.  Propping his elbow on the arm of the couch, he covered his eyes with his hand.  It was his fault Roy had been shot, if that was, in fact, what had happened to him.  If he had to take a guess, his bet was on the warden and that private room beyond his office as for what really happened to Roy.  In any case, Roy was in the prison infirmary with very serious injuries because of Jax.  The nausea in his stomach grew as he thought about the fact that he had gotten the only person he could count on shot.

For the next several hours, Jax sat on the couch, very much awake.  He tried to convince himself that Roy was going to be fine and that it would all work out.  He would find out who really killed Miranda before he was caught and he would never have to return to Pentonville again.  And he would let Brenda go…just as soon as it was safe.

A loud bang followed by a shouted curse woke Brenda with a start.  She bolted upright, knowing instantly this was not her bed.  After a few short minutes of orientating herself, she remembered the events of the night before and realized where she was.  She was surprised, though, that she had slept at all.  The last thing she remembered thinking was how impossible it was going to be to sleep.

Remembering what woke her in the first place, she got out of the bed and went into the kitchen.  Her captor was holding his hand under the running water in the sink.  A black skillet was on the stove in the corner with what looked a pancake burning in it.  She walked quickly over to it and removed it from the heat.  Turning to him, she asked, “Are you trying to burn the place down or do you actually think you know what you’re doing?”

Jax winced as he removed his burned fingers from the cold water.  Pressing a towel over his forefinger and thumb where he had burned them on the rim of the skillet, he turned to face her with a wry look on his face.  “Well, you know, it has been a long time since I’ve had to do this,” he cracked.

“And you’re saying you used to do this regularly?  I very much doubt that,” Brenda said bluntly.  It had been very common knowledge that Jasper Jacks was one of the richest men in the world when he had been arrested.  It was a quick conclusion that he didn’t have to do any of his own cooking.  He’d probably had chefs at his beck and call every day.

Jax watched Brenda draw her conclusions about him and shook his head to himself.  There was a lot about him that she had no idea about.  “As a matter of fact…” he started to defend himself, but then figured there was no point.

“What?” she asked, turning from the stove.

He shook his head.  “Nevermind.”  Taking in the fact that she was still in her clothes from the day before, he changed the subject.  “If you want to put on something different, there are some clothes in the closet of the bedroom you’re in.  Feel free to wear whatever you want.”

Crossing her arms, Brenda just gazed at him, slightly dumbfounded.  “You’re kidding, right?”  He didn’t change his expression one way or the other.  “You want me to wear the clothes of the people who own this house?”

“I don’t see why not.  It’s not like you packed a bag for this trip,” he replied philosophically. 

That was certainly true, she thought.  “What makes you think they’re even going to fit me?”  Even she had to admit that was a lame excuse.  She would wear men’s sweatpants and sweatshirt for the next week if it meant she could take a shower.

Jax knew she was just making excuses.  “Why does that even matter?  I just thought you’d want something else to wear if we’re going to be here for awhile.”  He sighed softly, looking down at his hand to see if his burned fingers were blistering.  “Besides, you’re just about her size,” he muttered softly.

That threw her, she’d heard what he said.  She was her size?  She wondered who the woman was that he was talking about.  “Why?  You’re not,” she answered, pretending she never heard him.  She’d just noticed he was still wearing the sweater and jeans from the day before.  Looking him over, she realized he didn’t even look as if he had slept the night before.  She wondered if the news of his prison break had had anything to with it.

He took a step towards her to put the towel on the counter and watched as she unconsciously backed away from him.  He wasn’t even threatening her.  Staying where he was, he said, “If I change, will that make it okay for you?”

Brenda recognized how ridiculous it sounded when he said it.  She would have laughed at herself if it had been in any other situation.  “No, just nevermind,” she said.  “I’m going to go freshen up.” 

“I’ll have breakfast ready when you come back,” he said quietly, still not moving from his spot.  Watching her go back to her bedroom, he sighed when she disappeared.  It really didn’t matter what he did, she was never going to trust him.  He was going to have to accept that fact and let it go.  She would always see him as a convicted murderer.

Twenty minutes later, Brenda stepped out of the steam shower in the bathroom and wrapped a light purple towel around her body.  Walking cautiously into the huge closet, she flipped the switch by the door.  Recessed lighting shone down on her and showed her the collection she had to choose from.  There were men’s and women’s clothing in the closet.  The men’s clothes lined the right side of the room and were mainly made up of a few pairs of jeans, khakis, and dress slacks.  Several sweaters were folded neatly on the shelves that separated the two sides.  The women’s clothes were much more eclectic.  There were whole outfits lined next to each other.  It seemed to Brenda that there were enough clothes there for the next two months.  She wondered again who the woman was who owned these clothes.

Checking the size tags on a few different outfits, she realized they were almost all her size.  The woman whose closet this was must be very much like her, Brenda thought to herself.  She selected a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans that were exactly like the pair of black ones she’d worn the day before.  But when it came to picking a top, none of them seemed right for a day in a mountain house.  Instead, she chose a black cable-knit sweater from the man’s side of the closet.  It was going to be huge on her, but it was very soft and very comfortable.  Like it’s been worn a lot, she thought.

Before she took her shower, she’d washed her underthings in the sink and they were laying over the towel rack to dry.  She ran the hairdryer over them for a little while until she decided they were dry enough to put back on.  It may have been okay to borrow a pair of jeans or a shirt for the day, but someone else’s underwear was a whole other uncomfortable thing. 

A few minutes later, her hair left to dry in curly waves, Brenda went back into the kitchen.  Just as promised, breakfast was on the table, ready to eat.  And it even looked edible, she admitted to herself.  Golden brown pancakes were accompanied by sausage links and orange juice.  When she took a small sip of the juice, though, she could tell it had been recently made from a frozen concentrate.  Then again, there wasn’t much choice up here.

Jax watched as Brenda took in the table settings and started to drink the juice.  He took one more plate of pancakes over to the table and gestured for her to sit down with him.  He waited until she started to eat to taste his first meal in two years.  He had to admit it was certainly a step up from the prison food.  Just about anything was going to taste good, though, since the last thing he had eaten had been breakfast in the prison the morning before.

He watched while Brenda ate the food cautiously, as if she didn’t trust his cooking abilities.  Based on her first impression of him, she would have no reason to think he knew his way around a kitchen.  It was one of the few things she would come to learn over the next several days.  When she looked satisfied with the fare, he returned his gaze to his own plate and waited for her to say something.

So he can follow the directions on the back of the pancake box, Brenda thought to herself.  That didn’t mean he knew how to cook.  Just like being able to operate a CD player didn’t make her a musician.  She grimaced as she thought of the expression.  It was something Lois said frequently to people who had tried to belittle the business they were in.  She wondered if Lois was worried about her or if she had even given much thought to the fact that Brenda hadn’t checked in with her yet.  Maybe because of the snow storm, Lois had decided she had gotten stranded somewhere and would be home today.  So if that was the case, there would be a search for her by nightfall.  The thought calmed her a bit.

The silence was eerie as they sat at the table and ate.  Brenda hated silence and usually did everything she could to break it.  But she didn’t know this man and worse, he was her captor, having taken her prisoner by gunpoint.  She didn’t exactly know how to make small talk with that.  But one thing came to mind.

Clearing her throat slightly, Brenda said, “You know, I don’t even know what to call you.  I mean, your name.  I-I remember you had some sort of a nickname you went by.  I never knew why, but people rarely referred to you by anything else.”

Jax smiled slightly, pained as he was by the stammer in her voice indicating her nervousness.  “You said you knew who I was.  You called me by my name last night,” he pointed out.

“No,” she corrected him.  “I called you ‘Mr.Jacks.’  That’s only your last name.  I mean, I would be more than happy to call you Jasper or Mr. Jacks for the rest of our time together – “  She almost laughed when she saw him wince at the mention of his first name.

“It’s Jax,” he said before she could continue.  “As in J-A-X.  Please don’t call me anything but Jax.”

Nodding, Brenda said, “Okay, that’s better, I guess.  But where in the world do you get a name like that?”

Jax shrugged as he got up from the table, taking some of the plates back to the kitchen with him.  “It’s just something my brother called me when we were kids and since I never cared much for my first name, it stuck.”

Brenda followed him into the kitchen, carrying her own plates.  She put them in the sink and ran water over them.  “You have a brother?” she asked, turning to face him.  She didn’t miss the cloud that passed over his face at her question.

Shake his head imperceptibly, Jax replied, “Not anymore.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he never did.  Instead, he crossed to the sink and started to wash the dishes.  She stood to the side and watched for a few minutes. 

Jax turned to look at her as he felt her staring at him.  There was something about her look that made him ask, “What?”

She smiled slightly again.  “Nothing, I just didn’t think you did the dishes, too.”

Leaving it at that, Brenda went down the steps into the great room.  In the daylight, she could see the snow continuing to fall lightly on the grounds.  The view was much more clear and the mountains were in plain sight in front of her.  The house looked like it was perched in the edge of a hill and there was nothing in front of them but the wide, open space.  In reality, if she looked down, she could see a very steep hill from the back of the house.  Everywhere she looked in this direction she only saw trees with very little space for the ground to show through.  A ways down the hill, if she pressed her nose to the glass, she could see a wide stream that appeared frozen over.

The water stopped in the kitchen and Brenda turned her head slightly to see where Jax was.  He was headed towards the front hallway where she saw him stop to look out the window for a few seconds before continuing upstairs.  She could have sworn she saw him coming from the direction of her bedroom, but she shook her head and dismissed the thought.  It was the perfect opportunity, she thought excitedly as she heard him going up the steps.  The thought of escape hadn’t been far from her mind all morning.  There was a way, she just had to find it. 

“Phones!” she whispered to herself.  There had to be a phone here somewhere, but as she looked around, she didn’t see even one.  Checking the walls, close to the floor, she looked for a phone jack to even indicate there was a phone line.  On the back wall, on the opposite side of the room from the entertainment center, she finally found the small jack, but there was certainly no phone connected to it.  Running into the kitchen quickly, she looked for another jack and found one by the stove, again with no phone attached.

Pounding her fist lightly on the countertop, she sighed.  Jax had already thought of it.  He’d taken whatever phones there had been in the house and hidden them somewhere.  If she wanted them, she would have to find them.  She would have to wait for the opportunity to search when he was either sleeping or distracted.  That wasn’t going to be easy, she thought.

A minute later, Jax reappeared in the doorway wearing a different pair of blue jeans and a navy blue sweater.  The clothes looked like they were made for him with the exception of the fact that he looked like he had lost a little bit of weight since he wore them last.  She realized as she looked at him that the clothes in the closet of her bedroom might belong to him.  Or they might belong to the other people who own this place, she admonished herself, thinking she was just jumping to conclusions.

This man was certainly a mystery to her, though.  And it looked like she was going to have plenty of time to try to figure him out as the snow outside picked up into a full-blown winter storm again.

 

Chapter 6