Two Reasons to Run

by Colleen Coble

  * * *

  Would she lose her job over arresting Victor?

  Jane parked in the circle drive of the lavish estate overlooking Oyster Bay. She’d heard it was seven thousand square feet and had an indoor pool, but she’d never been inside. She only knew his wife in passing, and she’d met his son and deceased daughter a time or two.

  His baby-blue Mercedes convertible was loaded with suitcases. Was he planning on fleeing as soon as the explosion went off?

  She let Augusta lead the way to the door. With the personal issues between her and Victor, it would be best to let her detective take the lead. Her shoulder was on fire, too, in spite of the ibuprofen she’d taken.

  Augusta rang the doorbell, and its deep chime echoed from the bowels of the house. When the door opened, she expected to see his wife, but it was Victor himself dressed in his usual gray suit.

  His pale-blue eyes swept over Augusta’s shoulder and dismissed Jane. “I’m too busy to talk, Jane.”

  He started to close the door, but Augusta thrust her foot in. “I’m afraid we have some questions that won’t wait, sir.”

  He flung the door open and slammed it behind him before he stalked to his convertible. “Talk to the back.”

  Jane stepped past Augusta and seized his arm in her left hand. She nodded to Augusta, who snatched the handcuffs from her belt and slapped one on the arm Jane held.

  Victor tried to twist away, but both women held him fast. “What’s this? Let go of me or I’ll have your job. Both your jobs.”

  “It’s all over, Victor,” Jane said. “Jonathan is singing as we speak. Steve isn’t on his way to the platform, and the computer virus has been contained.”

  His mouth sagged, then he snapped it closed. “You don’t know what he did to my daughter. You don’t understand how much he deserves to suffer. I want him to burn, to hurt the way he hurt my family.”

  Jane let Augusta handle his thrashing and stepped back. “What about the innocent people you would’ve harmed, Victor? Did that make your revenge worth it? And it would have destroyed ocean life as well.”

  Augusta wrestled him to the back of her car and thrust him inside, then shut the door. He banged his head against the window, howling to be let out.

  “Chief?” Augusta held open the passenger door.

  “Go ahead and book him, Augusta. I’m going to have my guys pick me up so I can go to bed. My shoulder has endured all it can.”

  Augusta’s kind brown eyes lit in a smile. “I approve.”

  Jane sank onto a bench and exhaled. It was done. She could go to her own house, sleep in her own bed. Maybe kiss Reid on the sofa like a teenager. Her pulse fluttered at the thought. The roses from the garden filled her nose with sweet fragrance, and she listened to the birds sing.

  This was her town, her responsibility. And she’d acquitted herself well.

  There was a honk, and she looked up to see Will and Reid getting out of the truck. Reid was pale with haggard eyes and his worried expression lightened after he sized her up.

  He limped her way and stopped in front of her. “What’s happened with the case?”

  Will stood beside him. “Mom, you got him, didn’t you? I can see it on your face. I told Dad you would. Who was it?”

  She told her guys how she’d figured it out and about the senator’s help. “Augusta is booking Victor now, but everyone is okay and the oil rig is safe. There’s still going to be a big hoopla when it hits the news, and the congressman may get his wish with more attention put on the vulnerability of the oil platforms. I hope it beefs up security.”

  “How’s your pain?” Reid asked.

  “About a twelve out of ten. I need to get a pain prescription filled.”

  “You should go back to the hospital.”

  “And let someone else nurse me instead of my men? I don’t think so.”

  A dawning hope lit Reid’s eyes, and his smile emerged, slow and tender. “Will might be nursing both of us. I can hobble a little, but we might like ordering him around.”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun.” Jane shot a teasing smile at their son.

  Will’s eyes glistened with moisture. “God’s really good to have pulled us all through this, Mom. I hope you know that.”

  “Oh, I do, honey. I sure do.” She held out her good arm and Will crouched by her. She tried to gesture to Reid with her bad arm and winced.

  He leaned over and slipped his arm around her. “If I get down, Will might have to haul me up.” He put his big hand on her back and bent over her in a tender gesture. “Thank you, God, for your mercy to us,” he said in a choked voice.

  “Amen.” Tears of exhaustion and relief came then. Tears of what could have happened and how her life might have ended if anything had happened to Will or Reid. Tears of thanksgiving to God.

  These guys meant everything to her, and she had a little more time to figure everything out.

  There was some kind of tension in Reid’s manner and embrace around her. It was nothing, just fatigue and his injury. What else could it be?

  “Let’s go home. I need coffee, food, and beignets. Only maybe not in that order.”

  Reid helped her up. “Coffee and chocolate beignets coming up. Our place or yours?”

  “Ours,” Will said. “Just the way it should be.”

  He knew her mind, just like his old man. The future looked bright in spite of her nerves right now.

  * * *

  To be concluded in Three Missing Days, coming April 2021

  A Note from the Author

  Dear Reader:

  I hope you’re enjoying this new series! It’s a little different from the majority of my books since we are following Jane and Reid through the entire series. They have a lot of baggage to sort out, so it couldn’t happen in one book! I’d love to hear what you think of the series so far.

  When researching the Pelican Harbor series, I was struck by how many oil and natural gas platforms loom in the horizon out in the water. I knew I wanted to write a story around one of them, and Two Reasons to Run is the result. I’ve never been at the ocean after an oil spill, but the pictures are horrific, and it saddened me to think of Gulf Shores being spoiled, and I had to make sure it didn’t happen in my fictional world.

  The more time I have spent in Gulf Shores, the more I love it. I hope you have come to love it too. Let me know what you think! You can email me at colleen@colleencoble.com.

  Love,

  Discussion Questions

  Do you find forgiveness hard or easy? What is the hardest thing for you to forgive?

  Will is finding his way as a teenager. What was the hardest part of being a teenager for you?

  Jane is a “fixer” and wants to fix Olivia’s illness. What do you do when faced with a seemingly insurmountable problem?

  Do you struggle with trusting God in hard situations?

  Is there any circumstance that would make you doubt God’s love?

  Reid has a steadfast personality. Do you know anyone like that?

  Does revenge satisfy the need for justice?

  Reid found his grandparents. Have you ever gone searching for a lost family member?

  Acknowledgments

  My great thanks to the England family from the Gulf Shores area. Isaac gave me the idea for the first book, and Amy selflessly hauled me all over the area to experience the flavor of southern Alabama. You all are awesome!

  Eighteen years and counting as part of the amazing HarperCollins Christian Publishing team as of the fall of 2020! I never take my great fortune to land there for granted. I have the best team in the industry (and I’m not a bit prejudiced), and I’m so grateful for all you’ve taught me and all you’ve done for me. My dear editor and publisher, Amanda Bostic, makes sure I’m taken care of in every way. My marketing and publicity team is fabulous (thank you, Paul Fisher, Kerri Potts, and Margaret Kercher). I’m truly blessed by all your hard work. My entire team works so hard, and I wish there was a way to reward you all for what y
ou do for me.

  Julee Schwarzburg is my freelance editor, and she has such fabulous expertise with suspense and story. She smooths out all my rough spots and makes me look better than I am. I learn something from you and Amanda with every book, so thank you!

  My agent, Karen Solem, and I have been together for twenty-two years now. She has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. She and a bevy of wonderful authors helped brainstorm this new series. Thank you, Denise Hunter, Robin Caroll, Carrie Stuart Parks, Lynette Eason, Voni Harris, and Pam Hillman!

  My critique partner and dear friend of over twenty-one years, Denise Hunter, is the best sounding board ever. Together we’ve created so many works of fiction. She reads every line of my work, and I read every one of hers. It’s truly been a blessed partnership.

  I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. My family is everything to me, and my three grandchildren make life wonderful. We try to split our time between Indiana and Arizona to be with them, but I’m constantly missing someone.

  Most important, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.

  An Excerpt from Strands of Truth

  Prologue

  January 1990

  St. Petersburg, Florida

  Lisa ran to her Datsun Bluebird and jerked open the yellow door. Her pulse strummed in her neck, and she glanced behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She’d tried not to show fear during the confrontation, but it was all she could do not to cry. She couldn’t face life without him.

  She’d been on edge ever since yesterday.

  Twilight backlit the treetops and highlighted the hanging moss. Instead of finding it beautiful, she saw frightening shadows and shuddered. She slid under the wheel and started the engine, then pulled out of her driveway onto the road.

  She turned toward the Gulf. The water always calmed her when she was upset—and she had crossed upset moments ago and swerved into the scared zone.

  Her belly barely fit under the wheel, but this baby would be born soon, and then she’d have her figure back. She accelerated away from her home, a dilapidated one-story house with peeling white paint, and switched on her headlights.

  The radio blared full of the news about the Berlin Wall coming down, but Lisa didn’t care about that, not now. She switched channels until she found Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” playing, but even her favorite tune failed to sooth her shattered nerves. Could she seriously be murdered over this? She’d glimpsed madness in those eyes.

  She pressed the brakes as she came to a four-way stop, but the brake pedal went clear to the floor. She gasped and pumped the pedal again. No response. The car shot through the intersection, barely missing the tail end of another vehicle that had entered it before her.

  Hands gripping the steering wheel, she struggled to keep the car on the road as she frantically thought of a way to bring it to a stop that didn’t involve hitting another car or a tree. The baby in her belly kicked as if he or she knew their lives hung suspended in time.

  “We’re going to make it, little one. We have to. I can’t leave you alone.” No one would love her baby if she died. Her mother couldn’t care for her child. She cared more about her drugs than anything else.

  Lisa tried to tamp down her rising emotions, but she’d never been so frightened. The car fishtailed on the sandy road as she forced it back from the shoulder. Huge trees lined the pavement in a dense formation. Where could she drive off into relative safety? A field sprawled over on the right, just past the four-way stop ahead. If she made it through, it seemed the only place where they might survive.

  Had the brakes been cut? What else could it be? She’d just had the car serviced.

  Lisa approached the stop sign much too fast. The slight downhill slope had only accelerated the speed that hovered at nearly seventy. Her mouth went bone dry.

  Her future with her child and the love of her life depended on the next few moments.

  She could do it—she had to.

  The tires squealed as the car barely held on to the road through the slight turn at high speed. Before Lisa could breathe a sigh of relief, a lumbering truck approached from the right side, and she laid on her horn with all her strength. She unleashed a scream as the car hurtled toward the big dump truck.

  The violent impact robbed her lungs of air, and she blacked out. When she came to, she was in an ambulance. She fought back the darkness long enough to tell the paramedic, “Save my baby. Please . . .”

  She whispered a final prayer for God to take care of her child before a darker night claimed her.

  One

  Present Day

  Clearwater, Florida

  The examination table was cold and hard under her back as Harper Taylor looked around the room. She focused on the picture of a familiar Florida beach, which helped block out the doctor’s movements and the smell of antiseptic. She’d been on the beach at Honeymoon Island yesterday, and she could still smell the briny scent of the bay and hear the call of the gulls. The ocean always sang a siren song she found impossible to resist.

  Calm. Peace. The smell of a newborn baby’s head.

  “All done.” Dr. Cox’s face came to her side, and she was smiling. “Lie here for about fifteen minutes, and then you can get dressed and go home.” She tugged the paper sheet down over Harper’s legs.

  “How soon will I know if the embryo transfer was successful?” Though she’d researched the process to death, she wanted some assurance.

  “Two weeks. I know right now it seems like an eternity, but those days will pass before you know it. I’ve already submitted the lab requisition for a beta-HCG test. If we get a positive, we’ll track the counts every few days to make sure they are increasing properly.” Dr. Cox patted her hand. “Hang in there.” She exited the room, leaving Harper alone to stare at the ceiling.

  Her longing for a child brought tears to her eyes. She’d felt empty for so long. Alone. And she’d be a good mom—she knew she would. All the kids in the church nursery loved her, and she babysat for friends every chance she got. She had a wealth of patience, and she’d do everything in her power to make sure her child knew she or he was wanted.

  She slipped her hand to her stomach. The gender didn’t matter to her at all. She could love either a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter that this baby wasn’t her own blood. The little one would grow inside her, and the two of them would be inseparable.

  Once the fifteen minutes were up, she was finally able to go to the bathroom and get dressed. She already felt different. Was that a good sign, or was it all in her head? She slipped her feet into flip-flops, then headed toward the reception area.

  The tension she’d held inside melted when she saw her business partner, Oliver Jackson, in the waiting room, engrossed in conversation with an attractive woman in her fifties. She hadn’t been sure he’d be here. He’d dropped her off, then gone to practice his bagpipes with the band for the Scottish Highland Games in April. He said he’d be back, but he often got caught up in what he was doing and lost track of time. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d stood her up.

  Oliver was a big man, well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a firm stomach from the hours spent in his elaborate home gym. She’d always wondered if he colored his still-dark hair or if he was one of those lucky people who didn’t gray early.

  Even here in a fertility clinic, this man in his sixties turned women’s heads. She’d watched them fawn over him for years, and he’d had his share of relationships over the fifteen years since his divorce. But Oliver never stuck with one woman for long. Was there even such a thing as a forever love? She hadn’t seen any evidence of it, and it felt much safer to build her life without expecting that kind of faithfulness from any man. Having a child could fill that hole in her heart without the need to be on her guard aro
und a man.

  He saw her and ended his conversation, then joined her at the door. His dark-brown eyes held concern. “You changed your mind?”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “It seems an extreme way to go about having a family. You’re only thirty. There’s plenty of time to have children in the traditional way.”

  “Only thirty? There’s not even a boyfriend in the wings. Besides, you don’t know what it’s like to long for a family all your life and never even have so much as a cousin to turn to.” She knew better than to try to explain her reasons. No one could understand the guard she’d placed around her heart unless they’d lived her life.

  His brow creased in a frown. “I tried to find your family.”

  “I know you did.”

  All he’d discovered was her mother, Lisa Taylor, had died moments after Harper’s birth. Oliver had never been able to discover her father’s name. Harper still had unpleasant memories of her grandmother, who had cared for Harper until she was eight before dying of a drug overdose at fifty. Hard as those years were, her grandmother’s neglect had been better than the foster homes where Harper had landed.

  This embryo adoption was going to change her life.

  “I’ll get the car.”

  She nodded and stepped outside into a beautiful February day that lacked the usual Florida humidity. Oliver drove under the porte cochere, and she climbed into his white Mercedes convertible. He’d put the top down, and the sound of the wind deterred further conversation as he drove her home.

  He parked along the road by the inlet where she’d anchored her houseboat. “Want me to stay awhile?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to lie on the top deck in the sunshine and read a book. I’ll think happy thoughts and try not to worry.”