She Can Run Read online

  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.”

  He was pretty sure Sean was kidding.

  His cousin nodded toward the parking lot and raised a hand in a short wave. “Look, there’s Mike. Let’s ask him what the deal is with our resident lecher.”

  Police Chief Mike O’Connell pulled his cruiser into the space next to Jack’s SUV and got out of the car.

  “What’s up?” Mike lifted off his hat and toss
ed it into the passenger seat through the open window. His red hair caught the sun and blazed bright orange. The navy uniform, unbuttoned at the throat, strained at the buttons across the former collegiate wrestler’s massive chest.

  “First of all, you gotta lay off the weights, man.” Sean shook his hand. “Your neck is MIA.”

  Mike snorted. “You want to keep that weak-ass body, you go right ahead.”

  Jack grinned. At six-four, Sean had a few inches on his old schoolmate, but Mike outweighed him by at least thirty pounds of pure muscle. “If you ladies are done comparing your figures, I was going to ask Mike an important question. What do you know about Will Martin, from the feed store?”

  Mike wiped a hand across his brow. “Christ. What’s that asshole done now?”

  “Intimidated my caretaker. Crowds her. Won’t take no for an answer, if you know what I mean.”

  “Martin’s a bully, that’s for sure.” The police radio crackled, and Mike stopped to listen to the dispatcher on his car radio for a second before continuing. “I’ve had a few discussions with him about his behavior with women. Bump-and-grabs in a crowd. Lewd suggestions. That sort of thing. We’ve had a few verbal complaints, but so far no one will press charges against him. He knows how to pick a victim.” Mike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go have a talk with him. Let him know I’m aware of the situation. If she’s willing to file a complaint, call me. I’d love to haul his smart ass in.”

  “Thanks, Mike. I will.” Jack already knew she wouldn’t.

  Mike returned to his car. Jack and Sean headed back to the estate, where all was quiet. Jack left Sean checking wires and swearing while he went looking for Beth.

  He found her in the kitchen, coffee pot in hand. Stowing his cane by the back door, he limped into the room.

  Fatigue lined her face as she poured some of the steaming brew into a mug. “I can barely keep my eyes open. Do you want a cup?”

  At his nod, she poured coffee into a second mug and handed it to him.

  He gestured toward the wooden table. “Sit down. I want to talk to you about something.”

  She slid into the nearest chair. Jack sat across the table where she couldn’t avoid his eyes. The spoon she held to add sugar to her coffee shook.

  Despite the kick of guilt, Jack persisted. “Jeff Stevens told me an interesting story today about Will Martin bothering you in the grocery store a while back. Why didn’t you mention it?” Jack looked at her over the rim of his cup.

  Beth swallowed and stared into her mug. “He didn’t actually do anything. That’s why.”

  “According to Jeff, Martin pinned you up against the dairy case and said something to you that upset you,” Jack prodded. “What did he say, Beth?”

  “He made some vulgar comments,” Beth answered vaguely.

  “Like what?”

  The trembling in her hands increased. She set her coffee down. “Jack, I really don’t want to repeat it.”

  “Did he threaten you?” Jack took her silence as an affirmative response. He fought to keep his voice level. “Martin pushes you up against a wall and makes obscene threats, and you don’t tell me about it? Come on, Beth. That’s not smart. I talked to the chief of police, and he said Martin’s done this sort of thing before to other women.” Jack reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You could press charges.”

  He wasn’t surprised when she shook her head.

  Jack sighed. “If he comes within a hundred feet of you, I want to know about it.”

  She nodded, but doubt and disappointment crept into Jack’s chest as she pulled her hand out from under his, rejecting him and his help yet again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Black numbers swam across the monitor. Beth blinked and rubbed her eyes. The figures were clear for a few seconds before blurring again. She glanced at the digital clock at the bottom of the screen. Nearly midnight. Definitely enough accounting for one night. Jack had gone to bed an hour before.

  She saved her spreadsheet and closed the software. The Web browser was still open on the screen, beckoning like a crooked finger. Her hands hovered over the keyboard. Why hadn’t she thought to Google James before tonight? Maybe because her life was one long string of crises.

  She typed his name into the search bar and tapped enter. After the confrontation with Jack earlier in the day, she needed a backup plan. She needed to talk to James. He’d been adamant that Daniel O’Malley’s estate was the right place to go, but so much had happened since then. Would James have wanted her to stay if he knew about Danny’s death? And what would he say about Jack’s ex-cop status? James wasn’t too keen on authority.

  And, dammit, why was his phone disconnected?

  She scrolled through the search results. Nothing relevant. With a deep breath she pulled up the Web page of the Richmond Gazette, then searched through the archives for James’s name in the days after she’d left. Bingo.

  Beth felt the blood rush from her head. She grasped the worn leather arm of the chair.

  No.

  Two days after she’d come to Westbury, James’s bar had burned down. He was missing. The body of Anthony Cardone had been found in the rubble. He’d been killed by a knife wound to the back. The fire was classified as arson.

  Cardone was a repeat violent offender who’d been in prison for robbery and assault. Two years before, Cardone had been charged with murder. The charges had been dropped when crucial evidence disappeared. Authorities were still searching for James Dieter. Due to Cardone’s criminal history and the fact that the till had been emptied, the police suspected a robbery attempt gone wrong. An investigation was underway, but so far, the police didn’t have any leads.

  If Cardone had tried to rob the bar, where was James?

  There must have been more than one man. Could the other criminals have turned on Cardone for some reason? Killed him and left him to burn?

  The police were either clueless or hiding the real story. The way she saw it, James had been kidnapped and then most likely killed because of her. Thanks to her stupidity in marrying Richard, the only person even close to being family was dead.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away and drew in a shaky breath. Her chest constricted with sorrow.

  She was all alone now.

  Despair edged into her mind. She pushed it away. There was no use lamenting her past when her children’s lives depended on her. She’d make it through somehow.

  She scanned the article one more time before she stabbed the power button on the tower next to her feet. Windows would bitch at her in the morning for not closing the browser properly, but she didn’t care.

  With no desire to face her dark bedroom with only her thoughts for company, she opted for a distraction and a change of scenery. Sleep was out of the question. Tucking the thick volume of The Practical Guide to Estate Taxation under her arm, she headed for the living room. Not exactly light bedtime reading, but if she was going to be awake most of the night, she might as well do something useful.

  She settled on the sofa, curled her feet under her body, and opened the thick volume.

  She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the veranda. The suite overlooked a beach fringed with lush tropical greenery. Beyond, the Pacific Ocean stretched into the horizon. The sky blushed with a pale pink sunset. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the sea air.

  Nerves that had settled after yesterday’s formal wedding were renewed as she faced the prospect of her honeymoon. Last night she’d squashed the small seed of disappointment when Richard had fallen asleep on the couch in their suite, but it had been late. The reception had gone on until nearly two in the morning. Still, the fact remained that he hadn’t wanted her enough to stay awake. And this morning they’d awakened at dawn to endure the fourteen-hour trip from Philadelphia to Maui.

  She was exhausted, but also exhilarated. She’d had sex once since Brian died, about three years ago, with a man she’d met at a friend’s wedding. He’d been ve
ry kind and hadn’t freaked out when she’d burst into tears afterward. But he hadn’t called again and she’d been relieved.

  Inside the suite, she heard her new husband speaking to the porter. With a smile, she turned back into the luxurious living room as he peeled off a few bills and handed them over. Clad in elegantly tailored casual slacks, a polo shirt, and sport coat, soon-to-be congressman Richard Baker was a beautiful man. A thrill skipped up her spine as she pictured him naked, all those smooth muscles gleaming.

  He closed the door behind the porter and tossed his wallet onto the mahogany writing desk. “We should unpack.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Crossing the room, she slid her arms around his neck. “We finally have some time alone.”

  He lifted her arms by the wrists and unwound them with a small frown. “I made a nine o’clock dinner reservation.”

  “We could stay in.” She flattened her palms on his broad chest, rising up onto her toes to press her lips to his. His mouth didn’t respond.

  This was getting downright bizarre. While they were dating, she thought his insistence that they wait to have sex until after they were married was charming, even practical considering the intense public scrutiny he endured as a political candidate. But now it seemed like the real truth was that he just didn’t want to sleep with her. But that didn’t make sense. He’d married her, hadn’t he?

  She ran her fingers along his muscled biceps and forearms, sliding them down to grip his hips and pull them against hers. He was soft against her belly. Oh no. Was he impotent? Or maybe just tired and tense? Whatever it was, they could deal with it together. And even if sex wasn’t a major factor in their relationship, she could live with that. She’d married him more for companionship than passion anyway. She’d had the fairy tale once. Surely fate only allowed one per person. She’d been lucky to have those precious years.

  She didn’t want to love another man the way she’d loved Brian. She’d never survive another loss that soul-splitting deep. Friendship would have to be enough this time around.