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“Really? Because I think you do.” Her cool mask slipped slightly and Patrice pulled down the collar of her trench coat, revealing purple finger bruises on her throat.
Clark’s breath hissed out. “Who did that to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Patrice let the collar fall back into place.
“Why don’t you go to the cops instead of coming to me?”
“Because he owns the cops. Even if I got a restraining order, he’d make me disappear before they gave him a slap on the wrist. And I won’t leave my daughter alone with that monster.”
“Your…daughter?”
“Jillian. She’s two.” Patrice pulled out her phone and slid it over to him. “Look for yourself.”
Clark tapped the gallery icon and scrolled through pictures of a little girl with white-blond curls and the same nose as Jace.
He slid the phone back to her. “Where is she?”
“Back at the hotel I’m staying at. The owner’s daughter is sitting with her until I get back.”
Even with the bruises, Clark might have been able to tell her to go to hell, but he’d taught Jace to be kind, to help those in need. If something terrible befell Patrice and Jace found out Clark could have helped, he’d never forgive him. And that little girl didn’t have anyone else but Patrice. What would happen to her?
There was no other choice. “It will take me time to liquify some of my assets. I can get you most of what you need by Friday. Are you good to stay in town until then?”
“I’m…I paid for the hotel through tomorrow, but I’m almost out of money. We left in a hurry.”
“Which hotel?”
“Mistletoe Motel. Room 15.”
“I’ll call and take care of it.” He pulled some bills out of his wallet and handed them to her. “This should be enough to get some groceries and whatever else you need.”
“Thank you. You could have told me to fuck off, you know.”
“No. I’ve hated you for a long time, Patrice, but you aren’t wrong about how my son would feel if I didn’t help you. I hope you really are going to make a better life for your daughter. I just have one more question.”
“What’s that?”
“You said once that you couldn’t have a boy. Why?”
Patrice smiled bitterly. “We all have our traumas, Clark.”
“Is that what you’re going to leave me with? You had a rough childhood, so you abandon your child because you were hoping for a specific gender?”
Her expression hardened. “I know your mom and dad didn’t love you enough, but my step-dad? He loved me too much.” She finished her beer and set it to the side. “You can judge me all you want, Clark, but the truth is you never really knew me. I saw a cute, shy guy at a party when I was on a bender, burning away my past one shot at a time, and I used him to make myself feel better. You wanted love so badly you were willing to settle for a broken, borderline alcoholic. You were sweet, but I would have made you miserable. I knew when you told me you wanted him that you would take care of our son. That he’d be safe and loved. That’s all any parent wants.”
“Don’t play the martyr, Patrice.”
“I’m not. You may hate me for leaving, but imagine if I’d stayed. Can you say for sure that…Jace would have been better off if I’d stuck around?”
Clark sighed. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Your friend said he was a great kid.”
“I know, she told me.” He drained his beer and put her letter in his back pocket. “She’s the other reason I came tonight. She thought I should hear you out.”
“Well, thank her for me.”
“Goodnight, Patrice.” He stood, took a step, but turned back to her. “When you get to where you’re going, let me know, all right?”
