Midnight Exposure (25 page)

“Dad?” Scott’s voice came over the line. “Can I stay at Brandon’s tonight? School’s closed tomorrow. Some issue with the heat or something.”

Perfect. “It’s fine with me. Is Mrs. Griffin OK with that?”

“Yeah. She has to work at the bar tonight. You’re feelin’ OK and all, right?”

“Right.” Reed had talked to Scott shortly after the fire. “I’ll drop off a change of clothes.”

“Cool. Me and Brandon are taking the boys sledding, and we still need to dig out her back porch.”

“All right,” Reed said. “I’ll bring pizza, too.” Becca worked two jobs and still could barely feed her boys, let alone an extra mouth.

“’Kay.” Scott’s tone perked up. “I’ll tell Mrs. Griffin.”

Numb, Reed fed Sheba and called in a pickup order at Tony’s. He peeled off his smoky clothes and tossed them directly into the washer before walking into the bathroom to wash off the soot. As
he turned on the shower, the flowery scent of the hotel shampoo Jayne had used smacked him in the face. He closed his eyes and leaned on the vanity while the scent of her overwhelmed him.

How could he have let her go? How could he have stopped her?

Damn Doug. Reed’s head dropped forward. Hell, it was his own fault. He’d been living a lie for years. The truth was bound to come out eventually.

Reed went through the motions of washing and dressing in slow motion. His body moved heavily, as if he were underwater. Grabbing his keys, he left the empty house. He coughed as the cold night air hit his abused lungs. Sheba trotted behind him to the Yukon.

“Come on.” Glad for the company, he opened the door for her. “You can ride shotgun. The seat happens to be empty.”

Because Jayne was on her way to Philadelphia.

Alone.

She consumed all his thoughts as he stopped at the restaurant and drove to the Griffins’. The aroma of hot pizza filled the truck, yet Reed wasn’t even tempted to steal a slice. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast but had no appetite.

Jayne hadn’t eaten lunch either. The empty space in Reed’s chest swelled.

When Rebecca Griffin opened her door, Reed had to shake himself to be polite.

“Reed, thank you.” Becca was obviously getting ready to head out to her second shift of the day. Instead of the white waitress uniform, she was dressed in black slacks and a white blouse. She’d applied makeup with a heavy hand, but nothing could conceal her perpetual dark circles. “You didn’t have to bring food.”

“Becca, Scott will eat you out of house and home.”

“He and Brandon chopped a lot of wood for me today. He’s a good kid.” Her face cracked into a weary smile.

Reed’s heart squeezed. This woman was trying to be nice, and all he could think about was a tall redhead. Under the exhaustion, Becca was an attractive woman. Reed just had never felt any spark around her. But maybe fireworks were overrated.

Amicable companionship wouldn’t leave a crater the size of the Grand Canyon in his heart. What would Becca think of his past? They’d known each other for years instead of the few days he’d spent with Jayne.

“Come in.” Becca stepped back. Her eyes lingered on his bandaged cheek. “We heard about the fire—and Hugh. I’m sorry.”

Reed crossed the threshold and passed close to Becca in the narrow hall. She smelled like coconut. Reed continued straight through to the kitchen. The house was cold and Reed wondered if she was rationing her woodpile. He set the pizza boxes on the counter.

Becca pulled a few chipped dishes from the cabinet. She looked as tired as he felt. “You brought dinner. Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

He and Becca had a lot in common. They were the same age. Their lives revolved around their kids. They’d both had shitty days. Hell, they’d both had shitty lives. If anyone would understand how he’d gotten the shaft, Becca would.

John stuck his head outside the cabin door and listened. No engine. He scanned the clearing. Nothing. A deep breath of winter air stung his lungs. He inhaled again, relieved to feel the cold burn after an eternity of numbness.

One step outside the door, the chain around his ankle snapped taut. He knelt and extended his arm to scoop snow into the plastic cup. With his other hand, he grabbed a log from the pile. The cold burrowed through his filthy sweater. Back inside, he stacked the log with the small pile he’d accumulated that day. The cup went near the fire.

He glanced at the bottled water stacked in the corner. No chance. He’d wait for the snow to melt. He hadn’t consumed any of the water since last night. By morning his vision had cleared and his limbs no longer felt as if they were weighted. By mid-afternoon he could stand and walk without weaving. Weakness persisted but that was to be expected after so many weeks of limited movement. His guess had been correct. The water had been drugged. He’d eaten several protein bars and still felt OK.

How long had he been held captive? Weeks? Months? He had no recollection of time. In the old house, days and nights had passed in a fluid blur. But now, his world was clear and sharp again.

The change wasn’t 100 percent positive. He could think about his family now. Had his parents given up hope? Did they think he was dead? His gut ached when he imagined their grief—and guilt. They’d moved to Maine just to keep him safe.

But the worst thing about being clearheaded was the ability to project his future. He had no idea why he’d been imprisoned, but he was going to die unless he escaped. No one was coming for him. No doubt his family thought him dead already.

He squatted five times. His quadriceps burned, but this morning he’d only been able to do one.

He needed a plan. He needed to get the manacle off his ankle. He needed a weapon.

John stuck another log in the potbellied stove. With no matches to be found in the cabin, he’d been careful not to let the fire go out. He sat on the sleeping bag and extended his sock-clad feet toward the fire. Heat infused his toes. He tensed and released all his muscles. Blood flowed with reassuring pinpricks.

His reality was dim. The cabin was empty. Even if he managed to free himself, he wouldn’t make it very far without shoes or a coat and no idea which way to run. He was in the middle of nowhere, and his survival skills ran more toward spotting trouble in the subway.

His best bet would be to take his captor by surprise and steal his vehicle. His gaze was drawn to the woodpile. He reached over and broke a long sliver off the cut side of the closest log. He touched the pointy end with his forefinger. Was it sharp enough to do some damage?

John sorted through the logs until he found one narrow enough to curl his hand around. His arm trembled when he lifted it high, but with a two-handed grip, he managed to swing it in a wide arc. A crude club.

He needed every advantage he could find. There would only be one opportunity for escape.

John shifted his feet. Something caught on his sock. He crawled closer and ran his forefinger over the rough wood floor. A nail head poked out an eighth of an inch. John picked at it with his fingernails.

Reed turned off Main Street and urged his truck way past the speed limit. Jayne had a good head start on him, but her Jeep was old. If he pushed it, he might be able to catch up with her. She’d be on the state highway for at least thirty miles before she hit the next town. It was the only main route south.

Becca Griffin had looked disappointed when he’d declined dinner. But she knew there wasn’t any attraction on his part. And Scott’s comment had pierced Reed to the heart.

Why’d she leave? She didn’t have any money or anything. Aren’t you worried about her?

Why had he let her go so easily? Why hadn’t he tried harder to make her listen? Seeing that old headline had shocked the hell out of him. The black print had looked so bold above the full-color glossy of him exiting the police station after identifying his wife’s body. He’d been transported back to that afternoon. The warm Southern sun shining on his head had felt like an abomination with Madeline’s body lying cold on a stainless-steel table in the morgue. The whirring and clicking of cameras had followed him to his car, his house, Scott’s school, even his wife’s funeral. Reporters had stalked him for months. When the case remained unsolved, and he hadn’t been arrested, the press had screamed corruption. He’d quit the force. Hell, he’d quit living—until this week.

So the real reason he’d let Jayne leave was fear. He was afraid of the feelings she drew from him. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. He wanted to live again. But allowing himself to hope he could have a second chance was opening his scarred soul to another potential wound.

The snowy landscape rolled by, monotonous and endless and bleak, until two vehicles on the side of the road caught his attention. Nathan’s SUV was parked behind Jayne’s Jeep. Smoke seeped from under the Jeep’s hood. Nathan was throwing Jayne’s duffel in the back of his truck.

Jayne turned. Her gaze settled on him through the windshield, and she lowered the cell phone from her ear. Her hair caught the sunlight like a halo. Relief bubbled up in his chest, and his heart jumped for joy. She was safe. How could he have let her take that risk?

Sheba caught sight of Jayne and whined. The dog put both front paws on the dashboard and wagged her tail.
Exactly
.

He pulled over to the side of the road and jumped to the ground. “What happened?”

Jayne froze. Something hard flashed in Nathan’s eyes. Was he jealous? Did he have designs on Jayne? Well, too fucking bad for him. Reed was not letting her endanger herself a second time.

Nathan smoothed his expression. “Jayne’s car overheated. I was giving her a lift into town.”

“I’m here now. You can get home to Aaron and Evan.” Reed stepped forward.

“Jayne. Would you rather go with Reed?” Nathan asked. His words and tone were amicable, but his jaw clenched as if he had to bite the words off.

Jayne hesitated.

Reed caught Jayne’s gaze. “Please,” he said. “I’ll explain everything.”

Her eyes searched his. She turned to Nathan. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll go with Reed.”

Reed would’ve preferred Jayne be more excited at the prospect of coming home with him, but he’d take what he could get. Once they were alone, he’d explain that he hadn’t meant to be a total ass—and he’d tell her all about the disaster of his life in Atlanta.

Reed stepped forward and tugged her duffel from Nathan’s grip. The mayor held on for a split second too long. Nathan definitely wanted Jayne for himself. He didn’t move as Reed steered Jayne toward the Yukon.

On the passenger side, Reed tossed her bag in the backseat and opened her door. “Sheba, in the backseat.”

The dog hopped over the console. Reed climbed behind the wheel. “Do you need anything else from your Jeep?”

“No. It’s all in the bag.”

Jayne reached over the seat and gave Sheba a head rub.

Reed K-turned back onto the road and headed toward home. In the rearview mirror, Nathan was still standing on the shoulder as Reed pulled away.

With his eyes back on the road, he felt Jayne’s stare on his face. “I need to apologize and explain about that article.”

“I know what happened in Atlanta.” Jayne held up a hand. “It’s OK.”

Shock burst through Reed. “You know?”

Jayne lifted a shoulder and turned toward the passenger window. “I called a friend and asked him to check out the article.”

“I’d still like to explain. There was a lot of information that didn’t make it to the press.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jayne said. “I know enough. I should’ve trusted you, but I had a bad track record. I was naïve once before, and I almost died.”

“It matters to me.” Reed exhaled and lowered his voice. “I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

Reed glanced sideways. Her chin was up, her jaw tight, and her face pink from the cold as she stared out the window.

“OK.”

Reed turned into the driveway and parked. Dusk was an hour off, but the sun had dipped behind the trees. Shadows reached for the house.

Reed grabbed her bag and led the way up to the door. Ice and rock salt crunched under their shoes on the porch. Sheba pushed past their legs and trotted into the house.

In the kitchen, Reed made a quick call to the auto shop. “The mechanic said he’d call later tonight, after he’s had a chance to look at your engine.”

The house wasn’t cold, but she shivered as she followed him into the kitchen. Her arms hugged her stiff body. Wet socks left footprints on the floor. She looked lost, like she didn’t want to be there. He couldn’t blame her. She’d wanted to leave town. He rubbed at the pressure building in the center of his chest. She’d wanted to leave him.

“OK.” Jayne toed off sodden sneakers in the mudroom and hung her coat on a peg. “Where’s Scott?”

“He’s staying at Brandon’s tonight.”

Jayne’s posture remained stiff. Did she not want to be alone with him?

“Do you want to try and call your brother?”

She nodded. “Soon as we hear from the auto shop. If the Jeep is repairable, I’ll get one of them to fly up and drive back with me. If it’s toast, I’ll just fly home.”

If that turned out to be the case, Reed would go with her and deliver her safely to her brother.