She Can Kill Page 11

  Several hours later, Sarah sat next to the gurney, stroking Em’s forehead while she slept. The cubicle was small, and Cristan had stayed out in the waiting room. Why couldn’t she have met a man like him six years ago? A man who mopped up vomit and handled a gross little dog with humor instead of anger. Instead, she’d picked Troy, who’d left his own vomit on the floor and kicked the little dog. She reminded herself that Troy hadn’t been an alcoholic when she’d married him.

  “Where is she?” Troy’s voice carried down the hallway. “Sarah?”

  Sarah breathed, wishing she hadn’t been required to call him. But the custody agreement was clear. The other parent must be notified in case of emergency. A trip to the ER was, by definition, urgent. Of course, he was also supposed to call her if one of the children was hurt or sick and he hadn’t. But she was going to do the right thing, legally and morally.

  Emma stirred. Making sure the bed rail was secure, Sarah slipped out of the chair and poked her head into the hall. Troy opened his mouth, but she put a finger to her lips as she stepped into the corridor. “She’s sleeping.”

  “It was a bump on the head. She doesn’t need a trip to the emergency room, Sarah,” Troy whispered in a furious hiss. “What are you trying to pull here?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Pull?” she asked in a low voice. Shock straightened her spine as a chill formed in her belly at the accusation in his voice. “I called you. You didn’t answer. She threw up twice, and I found a bruise and bump on her head. I didn’t have much of a choice. You should have mentioned the fall when you dropped her off.”

  “She was fine. Kids fall all the time. You coddle them too much.” He glared down at her, trying to crowd her with his body.

  Though her knees were rubbery, Sarah held her ground. She’d have to deal with this man for the next fifteen years. If she let him intimidate her now, he’d never stop. “She’s three, Troy. She can’t articulate how badly she feels.”

  “If you think I’m going to let you get away with this, you’re dumber than I thought.” A vein on the side of Troy’s neck throbbed. Sarah had learned to gauge his level of anger by the size of that vein, which was a sad fact all by itself.

  But this time she was truly confused. “Get away with what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Excuse me.” Cristan walked up the hall. He held two Styrofoam cups. “How is Emma?” He offered a cup to Sarah, the extension of his arm forcing Troy to move back. Cristan’s gaze swept over Troy from his Timberland boots to his baseball cap. The expression on Cristan’s face was benign, but his dark eyes had gone intense. Sarah knew him well enough to sense a quiet threat behind his polite façade.

  “Thank you.” The smell of coffee drifted to her nose. She clung to the cup with both hands, hoping the warmth would seep into her fingers. “We’re waiting on the MRI results.”

  As Sarah expected, Troy immediately put on his public face. When he was sober, he could switch his temper on and off with frightening speed. He held out a hand and introduced himself. Cristan accepted the handshake, but unmistakable coldness undercut his social niceties. He wasn’t fooled.

  She glanced back into the room. Emma was still asleep.

  The ER physician, Dr. Wilson, walked down the hallway with a file in his hand. Sarah suppressed her humiliation. Dr. Quinn Wilson had been on duty the night Troy had broken her arm, and he was a close friend of Mike’s. The doctor glanced in on Emma, then turned to Sarah. “The MRI shows no sign of bleeding in the brain.”

  “Of course there isn’t,” Troy interrupted. “She just bumped her head. Kids are tough.”

  “But she does have a concussion.” The doctor leveled his blue eyes at Troy. “How far did she fall?” He pulled a pen from the chest pocket of his green scrub shirt and opened the file in his hands. With a click of his thumb, he poised the pen over the paper.

  “Not far. A couple feet maybe.” Troy backpedaled, his posture becoming defensive.

  “What did she hit her head on?” Dr. Wilson asked.

  “The floor.” Troy moved toward Sarah. “I see what you’re doing here. You’re trying to blame me. This is a conspiracy.”

  Sarah froze. Her mouth refused to forms words, her body wouldn’t respond to her commands. Cristan stepped in front of her.

  Troy stopped short, his face reddening. “Who the hell are you, and why are you here?” His voice rose. Anger wiped away all traces of his company face. He stabbed a finger at Cristan. “Are you banging this guy, Sarah? Is that what this is really about? I’ll bet you were cheating on me all along. All those weeks I was out of town when the team was on the road.”

  How dare he? She’d spent most of her marriage trying desperately to please him. She’d gone to his games, even hugely pregnant in the heat of summer, to support him. She’d kept his house and borne his children and put up with his outbursts to try and keep their family together. She knew now all that effort had been futile, but back then, with her parents’ turmoil and her mother’s death fresh, Sarah had only wanted to keep the peace. But appeasing Troy proved impossible. He’d made it his goal every day to point out some imagined fault. In hindsight, her utter stupidity filled her with humiliation.

  She stepped around Cristan to confront her ex. As much as she appreciated Cristan’s chivalry, she needed to stand up to Troy on her own. He would never respect her, and she would never respect herself, until she did. Her belly cramped and her leg muscles quivered, but she faced him. Keeping her response on target, she said, “Troy, this isn’t about you or me. Tonight is about Emma. Aren’t you worried about her at all? You didn’t even go in and see her.”

  He blinked, as if just realizing his lapse. She watched the excuses spin in his eyes. His indifference to his daughters wounded Sarah all over again. How could he not love their two little girls as much as she did? And one question remained. Why did he pursue visitation and partial custody if he didn’t actually want to spend time with them? Why did he claim to want to reconcile when his hate for her was palpable? What was he up to?

  Troy glanced at Cristan as he answered. “This isn’t about Emma. This is about you, Sarah. You’ve wanted to stick it to me since last fall. I made one mistake, and I’m going to pay for it for the rest of my life. If you think this stunt is going to get you alimony or high child support payments, think again.” He pointed at Cristan. “Stay away from my wife.”

  “It’s you who’d better keep his distance.” Cristan’s voice took on an icy tone that sent a warning shiver through Sarah. “I won’t permit you to treat Sarah with disrespect.”

  Troy fell back, like a coyote confronted by a wolf. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Sarah.” Troy turned and strode away. He’d backed down from Cristan, but that didn’t mean he was giving in.

  “I’m going to check on Emma,” Dr. Wilson said. “You should call your case manager before Troy gets to her with his own spin on the incident.”

  The doctor went into the room.

  Sarah watched Troy retreat. “He didn’t even go into the room to see her. I want what’s best for the girls. I had a tough relationship with my mother and father. I wanted more for them.” Sarah sighed. Her head ached. She put a hand to her temple.

  “It is not easy being both father and mother,” Cristan said. “Not all people make good parents. If that were my child—” he nodded toward the doorway into Emma’s cubicle, “—no one would have prevented me from seeing her with my own eyes.”

  Sarah couldn’t imagine anyone trying to stand in his way. This was how a father should act, with a combination of ferocity and gentleness, to nurture and protect his children, not use them as pawns.

  Was Troy using the kids to manipulate her? She wanted him to care about them. She wanted sobriety to have changed him, but obviously that was wishful thinking on her part.

  Dr. Wilson proclaimed Emma fit to go home. A short time later
, Sarah collected the hospital paperwork and tucked sleepy Emma into her coat before picking her up.

  Cristan held his arms out. “May I carry you, little one, and give your mama a break?”

  “She’s not that heavy.” Sarah hefted the child’s weight higher for better leverage. Both of her girls were clingy when they were sick, especially Em.

  But she nodded and lurched toward him. Cristan caught her and gently lifted her to his broad shoulder. She nestled her head against his chest.

  Shocked, Sarah picked up her purse and the paperwork and followed him to the car. Usually, Em wasn’t comfortable with any man other than Mike.

  Cristan drove them home, carried Em into the house, and tucked her into bed.

  “Do you need me to stay?” he asked while Lucia located her boots.

  “No. We’ll be fine. Thank you for your help tonight.” She felt like all she did was thank other people for helping her. When she finally got her life back on track, she vowed to pay forward all the kindness in her life.

  “I am glad I was here.” He waited as Lucia put on her coat. His eyes were on Sarah. “I wish you didn’t have to deal with . . . all this.”

  “Me too.”

  “I left my book in Alex’s room.” Lucia disappeared down the hall.

  As soon as Lucia was out of earshot, he spoke in a low voice. “Sarah, I appreciate you want to handle your ex on your own, but I can’t and won’t allow him to threaten you.”

  “I know you mean well, but please don’t interfere,” Sarah said. “Troy is short-tempered. I won’t let him bully me, but for the girls’ sake, I also try not to make him angry. Please stay away from him.”

  Clearly unhappy with her request, he nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t provoke him.”

  It wasn’t the promise she wanted, but she sensed it was the best she’d get.

  His daughter returned, preventing Sarah from responding, even if she had the words.

  “Goodnight. Call me if you need anything. I can be here in ten minutes.” He gathered Lucia and left.

  Sarah locked the dead bolt and leaned against the door for a few seconds. Was Cristan’s response friendly concern, or was there more to his protective attitude? And why did the thought of him defending her fill her with warmth? She should want to stand on her own. It would be so much easier to let another man handle Troy, but she couldn’t take the easy way out. That’s how she’d ended up marrying Troy in the first place.

  “Mommy,” Alex called from the hall. “Can you tuck me in?”

  “You’re awake?”

  “I heard you talking.” Alex didn’t like to miss any action.

  Exhausted, she answered a thousand questions from Alex before getting her oldest child into her bed. Then she set her alarm for two hours so she could check on Emma. She made a quick round of the house, inspecting window and door locks, ensuring the blinds were tightly closed. The chore took only a few minutes in the tiny house. Testing the lock on the front window, she glanced outside. A large SUV sat across the street. It wasn’t Troy’s truck. In the darkness, she could see the outline of a driver sitting in the still vehicle, and she could feel him watching her.

  Sarah shivered.

  Troy could have borrowed a vehicle like he’d borrowed a cell phone. Or he could have asked a friend to watch her. Either way, she should probably call Mike. Troy’s behavior had been too erratic. She reached for her phone. The truck’s headlights turned on, and light flooded her driveway. The beams swept across her lawn as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and drove past the house very slowly before disappearing down the street.

  She lowered the phone as the taillights faded into the darkness. Why would Troy be interested in her activities? She was home with two young children, one of whom had a concussion. What did he think she could possibly be doing? As Sarah called her sister’s neighbor, Mrs. Holloway, to ask if she could babysit the next day—Em would need to be watched closely and Sarah didn’t have any accumulated sick days yet—she almost wished she’d asked Cristan to stay.

  Fuming, the woman leaned away from the eyepiece. Down the street, an SUV drove away from the house.

  “Where to?” her lieutenant asked.

  “I don’t know,” she snapped.

  Christopher had a woman. He had a whole new life. He thought he’d left his tragedy behind in Argentina. Well, she was going to show him he was mistaken.

  “The house.” She twisted the cap off a bottle of water and drank. But the chilled liquid did little to cool her anger. That bastard! How dare he get on with his life when hers was ruined.

  She lifted the digital camera from its dashboard-mounted tripod. The long, telephoto lens and night-vision attachment enabled her to see and photograph at a distance, even in low light. The images weren’t perfect, but the subjects would be clear enough for identification. She didn’t want to get any closer until she was sure she wouldn’t be noticed.

  She’d caught Christopher carrying a child and escorting the woman into the house. The porch light cast deep shadows on his face, and the way his body angled protectively around them fed her anger. Did he really think he could start over?

  She put a finger on the LCD screen on the back of the camera. In the small, grainy image, the hard planes of his face were clear enough. He hadn’t gone to fat. If anything, he was leaner, more dangerous and brutally handsome. “Do you think the child is his?”

  Her lieutenant shook his head. “That child is at least three years old. Christopher has only lived in this place for approximately two years.”

  “Yes. Of course.” She agreed. She wasn’t thinking rationally. Of course that wasn’t his child. But his body language toward the young mother indicated he was interested in her, and he was obviously still virile enough to obtain her if he wished. “He must be taught a lesson.”

  He nodded.

  “Tomorrow, we will find out everything about that woman. I want to know where she works, where she shops, everything. I want her every movement tracked.”

  “It will be done.”

  She wrote down the woman’s address and the license plate number for the minivan in the driveway. Drumming her fingers on the console, she watched as the windows went dark. Fifteen minutes later, she decided the neighborhood was quiet enough.

  “Go around the block and meet me at the other end of the street.” She opened the vehicle door. They’d disabled the interior dome light. She walked down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. The street appeared empty. Working people went to bed early. She paused in front of the woman’s house. The mailbox was empty, but she stooped to pick up a thin, tri-folded newspaper at the base of the driveway. Tucking it under her arm, she continued to saunter down the sidewalk. At the end of the street, she got back into the vehicle.

  “Well?” he asked.

  The newspaper was a local rag. She used her cell phone light to read the address label. “Her name is Sarah Mitchell.”

  A new plan formed in her mind. Perhaps Sarah Mitchell and her children could be used as leverage to control Christopher. He obviously cared about them, and that made him vulnerable.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sarah parked in the rear of the Main Street Inn. Inside, she hung up her coat and stowed her purse in a cupboard in the back room. Nerves twisted in her belly. Even with the best babysitter in the world on duty, leaving Em today had broken her heart. Mrs. Holloway had known Sarah and Rachel since they were born, and Sarah had complete faith in the retired schoolteacher to care for Emma.

  But that didn’t make leaving her daughter the day after she’d spent the evening in the ER any easier. She checked her phone for messages. Nothing.

  Jobs were hard to come by in her small hometown. She couldn’t afford to lose this one. For a minute, she almost longed for the days when she didn’t have to worry about working, when Troy’s salary paid all the bi
lls and she could concentrate on her house and her children. But that life had come with costs as well. It had put her in her current situation, tossing together a career like the chefs on Chopped scrambled to make an entrée in thirty minutes out of random ingredients.

  She knew her new boss had given her this job as a favor to Mike. She was a good cook, but she had no formal training. While she couldn’t let pride come between her and a steady paycheck, she was determined to do a damned good job.

  Single parenthood came with issues she hadn’t anticipated. Some days she loved her job. Being a person apart from a mother was refreshing and gave her a sense of individual accomplishment. Other days, like today, she just plain hated it. There were even days when she felt guilty for enjoying her work at the inn.

  But today, worrying about Em trumped all her other emotional issues.

  In the hours before lunch, the kitchen was empty save for two dishwashers working at the dual commercial sinks. She removed a clipboard from its hook on the wall, where the head chef, Jacob, had left her notes on the lunch menu. After three months of watching Sarah’s every move, Jacob had finally given her autonomy over the weekday lunch service.

  “Sarah, what’s wrong? You look exhausted.” Herb Duncan, the owner of the Main Street Inn and former chef, poured coffee into a thick, black mug and handed it to her. In his gray slacks and dark-blue sweater, Herb looked every inch the successful country gentleman.

  “Thank you.” Sarah accepted it gratefully. The heat in the kitchen tended to melt makeup from her face. But this morning, she wished she’d given her dark circles a swipe of concealer. “Em hit her head yesterday. We spent the evening in the ER.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes. She was up and eating a waffle when I left.”