Chapter 46 Daphne

The girls fell asleep an hour into the trip, and I'd drunk copious amounts of coffee to keep myself awake over the past thirteen hours. The quiet drive in the dark of night gave me plenty of time to think. I'm still astounded Jackson allowed himself to be handcuffed to the bed. And almost as astounded at myself for the acting job I was able to execute. Still, when he suggested we engage in some bondage play when we were shopping for lingerie earlier that day, I was terrified he would insist I be the one to wear them. I had counted on him drinking the drug-laced wine and passing out long before that became a possibility.

I don't know how I was able to play the role of dominatrix so convincingly, and I had little confidence it would work. But I saw it in his eyes the moment I gave him the first command. He loved it. I've read that many powerful men crave domination in the bedroom. It's the one time they can relinquish control. But given our situation, I wasn't sure Jackson would allow me to exert any control over him. The only explanation I can come up with is that his ego is bigger than his brain. I can't wrap my head around the fact that he actually believed I was grateful to him for bringing us together. Now so much makes sense. For years I wondered if the times he was kind and loving were an act, but now I see that for Jackson, cruelty and kindness grow in the same garden. He is a master of self-deception, believing in his own twisted rhetoric. A man who could believe that any means justifies the ends is capable of anything. I wonder once again how he ended up this way. Did someone damage him or was he simply born that way? But I can't muster any empathy or sympathy for him. He's taken too much from me for that.

Close to noon, I pull up to the house, a small rancher on a quiet street, and I leave the girls asleep in the car while I try the lockbox with the code Meredith left for me. My legs are practically numb from the long drive, my back is screaming, and my eyes feel dry and itchy. I breathe a sigh of relief when it opens, and I unload our meager possessions from the car. Tallulah yawns and opens her eyes.

"We're here," I say.

She rouses her sister and the two of them follow me into the house, still half asleep.

"Where are we?" Bella asks.

"Tennessee. We'll stay here overnight. I need to get back on a regular schedule so I'm going to push through and stay awake today and then hopefully I'll sleep tonight."

"Are we driving all the way to California?" Bella asks.

I shake my head. "No, sweetie. We're just going to get some distance from Connecticut until my lawyers can straighten everything out. We can't go home again until that happens. Are you guys hungry?"

"Yeah," they answer in unison. Meredith had packed us a bag of protein bars and waters, but the girls need real food. The staff will have arrived at Jackson's four hours ago, and by the time they find him and release him, he'll need some time to get himself together. Plus he has no idea where we are, and he still needs to pick up Jax from Meredith's. He'll be there for a while, interrogating her, I'm sure. I think it's safe to go out to lunch. The girls use the bathroom, and we all freshen up and are back out the door in fifteen minutes.

"How long do we have to do this?" Tallulah asks. "Aunt Meredith took our iPads and my phone. I can't talk to any of my friends or see what's going on. It's not fair."

I'm gratified to see her acting like a kid again and that last night's self-recrimination seems to have fallen away. "I know it's hard, honey. But Dad could track us with your phone. We have to be really careful. It will be over soon. I promise." In reality, I don't know how long it will be or if I'll be arrested. But at least my mother will be back from South America next week, so at the very least, the girls could be released into her custody while this all gets sorted out. Now that I have recorded proof that Jackson set everything up, his statement about her dementia won't hold water. I'm confident Jackson won't have a leg to stand on when that recording is shared with the authorities.

"I noticed a pancake house not too far from here. Sound good?"

"Yeah!" Bella answers enthusiastically.

"Fine" is all I get from Tallulah.

It's a weekday and the restaurant is only half full. We take a seat in a booth by the window. The waitress brings waters and coffee, and we all order pancakes. I involuntarily flash back to the first time I defied Jackson and instead of eating fruit like he suggested, piled my plate with pancakes slathered in maple syrup. On that occasion, I was still reeling from earlier that morning when he'd presented me with a blank journal in which to keep track of my food intake and calories and record my daily weight. I was postpartum and not yet back to my prepregnancy weight. My little act of rebellion had cost me a visit from my mother and was the start of his cycle of abuse.

"Mom?" Bella's voice is tinged with annoyance.

"Yes?"

"You're not answering me."

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Can I get a milkshake to go with the pancakes?"

I nod. "Yes. You can get whatever you like."

Our food arrives and we all dig in. It's been almost six weeks since I've been alone with the girls and away from Jackson's watchful eye. It feels great, like I can get a full breath again. But then reality comes crashing back and I remember how tenuous our freedom is. I glance at my watch and start to get nervous. I flag the waitress over to get our bill, my stomach suddenly churning. No one is paying us any attention, but I can't help feeling paranoid. Finally, she returns with the bill, and I pull out some cash and leave it on the table.

"Let's go."

"I'm not finished with my milkshake," Bella complains.

"Okay, hurry, please."

My phone buzzes and I jump. No one should have this number and Meredith knows better than to call me on it. I pull it from my pocket and freeze. It's an Amber Alert. Tallulah's and Bella's photos pop from the screen with their names and pertinent information. I'm filled with dread as I read the narrative:

THIS AMBER ALERT HAS BEEN ACTIVATED BY THE CONNECTICUT STATE POLICE DEPARTMENT. TALLULAH AND BELLA PARRISH LAST SEEN WITH THEIR MOTHER, DAPHNE PARRISH. DAPHNE PARRISH SHOULD BE CONSIDERED MENTALLY UNSTABLE AND DANGEROUS. IF SEEN CALL 9-1-1.

I lower my voice. "Girls, look at me."

They look up, wide-eyed.

"We have to leave now. There's an Amber Alert on you both. Don't run, just follow me casually out the door."

I slide from the booth, my head light and my heart pounding. The girls follow silently, and we make our way out the door and into the car. I'm about to shut the door when the waitress comes running out.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

I freeze, suddenly unable to move a muscle.