She Can Run (21 page)

It was the quiet sort of day that would have been unremarkable a few years ago. But now she appreciated the peace. After a month at the estate, she felt at home.

Her eyes drifted closed. She regretted taking a second pill before climbing into bed. Quinn’s medicine had worked wonders on her nausea last night but had left her with a foggy hangover. The kids’ voices muted as she dozed.

The squeak of sneakers on hardwood jolted her. Her eyelids snapped open.

“Oh, geez. I woke you. I’m sorry.” Guilt crossed Jack’s face as he stepped through the door, his lean body clad in gym shorts and a chest-hugging T-shirt. “I’m headed to physical therapy.”

“OK.” Even in her drowsy state—or maybe because she was chemically relaxed—Beth drank in his muscular biceps and torso, the hard chest she’d clung to that one night. Her fingers itched to touch his bare skin. Desire sparked in her belly. She swallowed and averted her eyes.

Jack’s brows knitted as he studied her face, as if trying to understand her discomfort.

Fat chance.

“Are you sure? I can cancel. I don’t really want to leave you here alone,” Jack said.

“I’ll be fine. Mrs. Harris’ll be back in an hour or two.” Time alone was exactly what she needed, along with a cold shower and a strong dose of reality to take her mind off his truly fine physique. The fact that his personality was just as attractive didn’t help.

Jack shook his head. “Still…”

“Go,” Beth interrupted. “You’re making such good progress. Please don’t do anything to hold back your recovery. I can’t possibly hurt myself sitting on the sofa.”

“OK. I have my cell if you need anything. The rehab center’s only fifteen minutes from here.” Jack nodded to Ben. “You have my number, right, Ben?”

“Yes, sir.”

Seemingly satisfied, Jack ducked out of the room. His uneven footsteps faded down the hall. The front door opened and closed.

Beth walked to the window to watch him navigate the walk and climb into his SUV. The limp was still pronounced, but his stride had gained strength. He might not be able to return to the police force, but he still had a life ahead of him.

Jack’s truck disappeared down the tree-lined driveway. Beth moved away from the window.

Beth turned to Ben and gave him a pointed look. “I’m going outside for a while. You and Katie stay in the house, OK?” She picked up the remote and clicked on the TV for background noise. A
Hannah Montana
rerun popped onto the screen. “And don’t let Henry out.”

Katie glanced up and smiled. “OK, Mommy.” Her daughter’s attention flickered between the puzzle and the television.

Ben scowled. He knew exactly what she was planning to do. “But you told Jack you weren’t going to do anything.”

“I know, honey. Sometimes grown-ups have to do things they don’t want to do.”

And it totally sucks.

Despite her son’s frown, Beth retrieved her gun, ammunition, and ear protection from the bedroom and walked out behind the garage. Since the incident with Will Martin in the grocery store, she’d kept the Sig strapped to her ankle whenever she went outside. She stuck to wearing her extra long and baggy jeans but lived in fear Jack would notice if she wore the gun around the house. He seemed to notice everything.

The gun’s weight was a constant reminder of her vulnerability. It kept her from pretending she had a normal life. She took a minute to calm down, center herself, focus. She buried her turbulent emotions. According to James, the cooler the head, the better the shot.

She inhaled the clean, country air through her nose.

A bird chirped in the tree to her left. Light wind blew a few dry pine needles to the ground. Tree limbs above her head swayed. A small animal rustled a nearby bush.

She exhaled through her mouth.

With both hands she raised the gun to shoulder level, and then spread her feet to shoulder width. Her injured arm trembled. Gritting her teeth, she steadied it and pictured Richard’s face, contorted with perverse pleasure as he raised a fist over her. She sighted and fired at the hay bale. The gun jerked in her hand, sending sharp jolts of pain to her elbow.

But she’d hit the target dead center.

She squared up to do it again.

Jack parked in front of the garage and walked over to Sean’s Yukon. “Thanks for coming out.”

Sean climbed out and stood next to the open door. “No problem. Finished up that last job early anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Since my physical therapist canceled, I thought we might get a jump on testing the existing alarm.” Jack scratched his chin. “I’d like to add quite a few features.” He still held onto his theory that Beth’s accident in the barn was caused by old and rotten wood, but the remote possibility that someone had managed to sneak onto the estate to hurt her gnawed at his gut.

“Who knows? Danny never used it. Wouldn’t let me touch a single wire. We’d probably be better off ripping the whole system out and starting from scratch.” Sean tossed his keys onto the seat of his truck.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to go without right now, even for a few days.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The report of a gunshot rang across the forest. Jack and Sean ducked behind Yukon’s door.

“That was close!” Jack peered through the side window.

“I’m pretty sure it came from that direction.” Sean pointed over the garage. “Probably just a kid. Or somebody target shooting.”

Jack pulled out his cell phone.

Sean stared. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Mike.”

“You really want to bother the chief of police to arrest some kid and his old man shooting a possum or coyote? This isn’t the city, Jack. Up here people shoot guns for perfectly legitimate reasons. Hell, everybody in Westbury has at least one gun.”

He had a point. Jack snapped his cell closed.

“Besides, we take care of our own up here.” Sean leaned into the vehicle and pulled out a nine-millimeter Glock. In case the shooter’s reasons weren’t so legitimate, Jack supposed.

“Come on. We’ll check it out.” Sean ran and Jack limped around the side of the garage. Sean paused and peered around the corner. He gave a low whistle. “Oh, man.”

Another shot rang out. This time very close.

Jack smacked his cousin’s shoulder and whispered, “What?”

Sean dropped to one knee so Jack could see over him. Beth stood with her back to them, pointing a handgun at a hay bale target twenty-five or thirty feet away. She fired. Straw shuddered. Small bits poofed into the air.

“That is so hot.” Sean’s voice startled Jack. They needn’t worry about Beth hearing them. Heavy-duty earplugs stuck out of her ears.

“What is wrong with you?” Jack glanced at his cousin.

“Don’t know. I’m a happily married man, but a gorgeous woman handling a gun like that always gives me a chubby.” Sean sighed. “She’s a hell of a shot.”

His cousin’s assessment of Beth’s shooting was correct. She fired the weapon several more times, amassing a neat cluster of bullet holes in the target. But obliterating a bale of hay wasn’t even close to the same thing as shooting at a live, moving object.

He applauded her skill, even if it didn’t mean she’d be able to actually shoot a person should the need arise. But should he let her know he’d seen her practicing? Would it freak her out? Everything else did.

Jack pulled Sean behind the cover of the building.

His cousin protested, “I wanted to watch.”

Jack shook his head as they started back toward their cars. “I don’t want her to know I know she has a gun. Christ, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“I get it. She might not take it well.” Sean huffed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They rounded the long, low building and approached their vehicles.

“She doesn’t trust me.” And wasn’t that the kicker? He didn’t have physical prowess to offer a woman anymore, which left him with emotional connection—and he was failing on that front, too. Shit out of luck again. Relationships weren’t something he had much experience with, having purposefully sought out women who weren’t interested in long-term commitments. His last relationship, with an assistant district attorney, had been of the friends-with-benefits variety.

Sex without baggage had seemed like a good idea at the time. With Jack’s unusual work hours, finding time to date at all had been difficult. The older he got, the less he tried. Besides, marriage and police work didn’t mix well. Most of the guys on the force had at least one messy divorce under their belts.

“She has good reason not to trust anyone.” Sean paused outside his truck. “What are you going to do?”

Jack glanced at the time display on his cell phone. His therapy appointment, if it had gone as scheduled, would have ended in thirty minutes. “Go to the diner and have lunch, then come back and pretend I didn’t see anything. Hungry?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Sean rolled his eyes. “But I’m in if you’re buying.”

Fifteen minutes later Jack snapped his menu closed and tucked it behind the napkin dispenser in a booth at the Westbury diner. “I’ll have a club sandwich and coffee. Thanks.”

The pretty brunette turned to Sean, who hadn’t needed a menu. Except for his stint in the Army, Sean had lived in Westbury most of his life, unlike Jack, who’d only been able to stay with Uncle Danny during summer vacations.

“I’ll have the Greek salad and iced tea. Thanks, Mary Ann. How’s Robert?”

She scratched his order onto her palm-sized tablet. “He’s good.”

“Tell him I said hi.”

“Will do.” Mary Ann hustled their order toward the kitchen. The diner wasn’t full, and she appeared to be the only waitress on duty. Not unusual. The manager, Carl Johnson, was known for overworking the staff.

Jack scanned the room. At the next table, Ray Gallagher, the manager of the grocery store, sat with his wife and their three elementary school-aged boys, who were fighting over a crayon. Jeff Stevens sat at the counter, working through a pile of fries as he read the paper. With a pang of annoyance, Jack saw William Martin in a booth across the room with a thick-muscled older man.

Jack caught Sean’s eye and nodded toward the burly pair. “Who’s that with Will Martin?”

Only Sean’s eyes moved. “His dad, Frank. Owns Martin’s Feed Store.”

Mary Ann hurried over with Sean’s iced tea and the coffee pot, flipping and filling Jack’s cup before heading over to check on the Gallaghers.

“Frank’s OK. Knows his son’s an ass. Feels guilty about it.” Sean added a packet of sweetener to his glass and stirred.

Jack dumped a tiny tub of half and half into his coffee. “Why’s that?”

“Wife split when Will was little. Frank spent the next decade shit-faced.”

“Mother ever come back?” Jack glanced over at the Martins’ table. Empty plates indicated they’d finished their meal. Martin was swiveling his head around, probably looking for the check.

“No. Don’t know if Frank ever heard from her again.”

Jack almost felt bad for Will. Almost.

Keeping her distance from Will, Mary Ann stopped next to Frank, ripped one pale green sheet from her notepad, and slapped the paper down on the table. Not that Will was likely to bother Mary Ann. Her husband was a former professional hockey player and was the size of a small building.

Martin stood, letting his father pick up the check. Not a surprise. The older man walked toward the register at the front of the restaurant. Will followed, leering at Mary Ann as she passed him in the narrow aisle.

Instead of backing down, Mary Ann held the steaming coffee pot between them and emitted a disgusted sound. She raised her eyebrows at Will. “Want me to tell Robert you said hi?”

Will’s mouth tightened as he turned to follow his father toward the lobby.

Jack and Sean exchanged grins.

A few minutes later Mary Ann brought their lunch, and they dug in.

Jack dipped a fry in ketchup. “You get a chance to look into that thing like I asked?”

Sean nodded and paused, a forkful of lettuce halfway to his mouth. “I’ve got someone on it. Shouldn’t be long. Not exactly classified information.”

“Your man’ll keep quiet about it?”

“Don’t worry. He’s as discreet as they come,” Sean assured him.

When they’d finished, Jack picked up the check and paid at the register. He followed Sean through the glass door.

“Jack, do you have a second?” Jeff Stevens hurried out behind them.

“Hey.” Jeff nodded at Sean.

Sean held out a hand. “Thanks for looking after Danny’s horses for us.”

“Anytime. No big deal.” Jeff shifted his weight and focused on Jack. “It’s about something I saw a week or so ago.” Jeff lowered his voice and told them about the scene he’d witnessed in the dairy aisle between Will Martin and Beth. “I don’t know what he did, and I couldn’t hear him, but he was standing way too close. She couldn’t get away, and she looked awfully upset. I thought you’d want to know.”

Jack’s lips tightened. “Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate it.”

Jeff nodded and unlocked a dark blue sedan.

Anger swelled in Jack’s chest as Jeff drove away. “Well, now I’m pissed.”

“We could kill him. No one’d ever find out.”