Vermont Escape
Page 22
Jill yanked her gaze away. Looking at the injuries made her hurt more. She pulled out the twisty holding her ponytail and let her hair swing free then padded across the hall in her fuzzy slippers. The bed looked inviting. So, did Jerrod standing near. He was still dressed. What had she expected? She didn’t know. Somehow, in its banged-up shape, her body still responded to the man.
“You climb in, and I’ll sit here until you fall asleep.”
He stood to the side while she slid in. Their hands reached for the covers at the same moment and pulled them up. A long time had passed since anyone tucked her in at night. Right now, it was what she needed and made her feel safe. His fingers feathered the hair falling across her shoulder. His lips barely brushed her forehead. Worried about what she’d dream, she nevertheless, closed her eyes.
“Sleep well.”
Those were the last words she heard before she fell asleep.
“JILL, JILL. YOU’RE okay. You’re with me. You’re safe.”
She opened both eyes. Jerrod’s leg was thrown over hers, and an arm draped across her stomach. She released a long breath of relief. “I was fighting with the man in the gray mask.”
“I was afraid that might happen. Sometimes talking about a dream makes it less threatening.”
She was quiet for a moment before she began in small voice just above a soft whisper.
“It was snowing. So hard, the road was a white haze in front of us. Then a monster-size truck, like an eighteen-wheeler, got on our tail. Karen tried to speed up, but the road was too slippery. The truck kept coming, getting closer, and closer. Then it rammed us and pushed us off the road.
“The car plunged down and down. It seemed it would never stop. A man pointed a gun, and I tried to get it away from him, but then he aimed at Karen. I lunged for his arm, shoved it down, but the gun exploded anyway. Karen fell. He threw me to the ground. Jumped on top. Cut me with his knife. Over and over. Karen screamed. Or maybe it was me.”
She stopped. Dragged in several shaky breaths. A dream. Nothing more. She was safe. Safe with Jerrod. She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed.
“Thanks.” She couldn’t resist touching his cheek and running her hand through his soft beard. He turned his head and kissed each finger, making her yearn for his lips on hers. She ached in places she didn’t know she had.
When—if they made love again, she didn’t want anything holding them back— his fear of hurting her or hers of not responding to him the way she’d want. Stifling moans, she moved to snuggle against his warm body. She needed rest to face whatever chaos lay ahead.
Chapter Seventeen
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10
Sid paced the office in his house. Circled the desk. Looked out the window. Chomped on the cigar in his mouth. Not as good as puffing on the God-damned thing, but his wife was a pain in the ass about cigar smoke in the house.
After the wreck earlier in the month, when Judson and Peterson ran the bitch off the road, Sid expected to hear what progress the guys were making. Patience wasn’t his long suit. He wasn’t waiting any longer. Sid grabbed his cell and punched in Peterson’s number.
A click indicated the call connected, but Sid didn’t hear anything. “Peterson,” he shouted. “Peterson. What the hell’s going on?”
Shuffling noise. “Mr. Cranston?”
“That you, Judson?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s Peterson?”
“In bed.”
Sid bit the cigar in two pieces. He spit it out. Shit. What was going on? Did he have the stupidest people in the world working for him?
“What’s he doing in bed? Bonking some dame?”
“Doc says he’s got pneumonia.”
“Shit.”
“They’ve pumped him full of penicillin. Said to take it easy for a couple of weeks.”
“Why didn’t you take care of the woman right after the wreck?”
“Peterson started feeling rotten right after that. We picked up stuff at the drugstore, but he got worse. When his fever hit a hundred and four, I took him to an emergency care clinic. They said pneumonia. Wanted to put him in the hospital. We didn’t think that was a very good idea.”
“No shit.” Sid slouched into his chair. The fingers of one hand tapped on the desk blotter. His blood pressure rose as he swallowed bile. “How long till you think you guys can finish up this deal?”
Muffled sounds. All he could make out was muffled sounds. His fist came down on the desk. “God damn it, Judson. Answer my question.”
“Maybe another week. Maybe two.”
The man’s apologetic tone didn’t mean much to Sid.
“You call me in a week and give me an update. Don’t make me hunt you down or send someone to take care of you two.”
“You don’t have to do—”
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 21
Despite many protests from Jerrod, Jill moved back to the rental. Her somewhat more conventional view of life reared its head when he’d suggested after the first night, she stay at his house. He’d argued she would be safer, and he would worry less about her.
How safe would it be with her hormones carrying on a wiggly dance whenever he was within touching distance?
Every morning, the question sprayed itself across her brain in bright red letters: Would this be the day she’d get the call about the flash drive? She’d never make it as a circus performer. Balancing on a tight rope didn’t bring out her best.
“If you can’t make up your mind about the crystal, perhaps you should look elsewhere,” she snapped at a particularly difficult customer.
“Jill, I believe you have a phone call in the back.” Sally stepped in. “Have you seen Joe Anderson’s work?” she asked the woman and led her to the other side of the shop.
Jill huffed to the office. “Who does Sally think she is? Not the owner.”
“Can I get you a cup of tea, Jill?” Mary Ann asked, her hands wringing in front of her body, and her eyebrows nearly meeting over her nose.
Jill sank into one of the chairs. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” She dropped her head into her hands and fought to get her breathing under control.
“A lot’s been going on, Jill. I know you prefer coffee, but this time how about tea?”
Jill nodded.
Mary Ann busied herself with the task. “Good thing we’re closed tomorrow. Everyone needs a little rest now and then.”
“Yes. A good thing,” she agreed.
The occasional irritating shopper normally didn’t bother Jill. She’d have to apologize to Sally. God, Jill couldn’t believe she’d said that. No contact day after day drew her nerves into knots. A good night’s sleep was something of the past. Even after drinking a half-bottle of wine for release, dreadful dreams disturbed her sleep. Sometimes she woke up screaming.
Because of them, she insisted the twins stay at the Woodstock Inn when they came for the holiday.
“Mom, I can bunk with you, and Ethan can manage on the couch for two nights. He’s sure slept in worse places.”
Jill prevailed. No telling what her kids thought about her insistence.
She kept her ears glued to the sky and her radio tuned to weather reports, praying the recent snows wouldn’t keep her children from traveling. Ellen and Ethan were scheduled to arrive later that day. Jill had made reservations for them to enjoy the Thanksgiving meal tomorrow at the Woodstock Inn. She couldn’t wait for them to arrive.
They called when they drove into town on their way to the inn. They’d arranged their flights to the Hartford airport, so they were able to rent one car between them. The sound of tires over the snow-packed driveway made her smile in anticipation. She turned the gas flame on low under the sauce she’d made earlier and turned up the one under the large pot of water for the angel hair pasta.
Stomping on the front porch told her they’d arrived. Before the bell rang, Jill flung open the door and welcomed them.
“Hey, Mom.” Ethan
scooped her up and swung her around. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Put me down, you crazy boy.”
“Oh, God. I didn’t hurt you, did I? Here let me see.” He turned her face up toward the light.
“Mom this is worse than you let on. It’s much longer.” Ellen threw her arms around her mother and brother. “Are you in pain?”
“A twinge now and again. The doctors assure me it’s the healing taking place, a good sign.”
“Will this leave a scar?” Ellen studied her mom’s face.
“Not much of one, if any. The plastic surgeon is well respected.”
“Rub Vitamin E on the wound. That’ll help a lot,” Ellen said.
“Yeah, I do that morning and night. Liz told me about that trick.” Jill raised a hand self-consciously to her cheek. “Is it ugly?”
Ellen hugged her. “No. And you look wonderful.” Ellen pulled Jill’s arms out to the side. “Maybe better than when we were here for your birthday. What’s your secret? Have you found a man?”
Jill coughed and shook her head. “Let me take your coats, and y’all go into the living room while I hang these. Ethan, pour the wine, please. You’ll find it on the side board in the dining room.”
“So, Mom, you didn’t answer your pushy daughter’s question,” he pointed out when she perched on the arm of the sofa.
She hoped her skin didn’t flush and give her away while she tried to be nonchalant. “Pilates. I’ve been going two to three times a week. Liz Phillips has her own studio you know, and she’s tough. Doesn’t let me slack off. Pushes me when I’m sure I can’t go any farther. But I do. She’s always right. It’s annoying.” Her lips turned up in what she intended to be an I’m-proud-of-myself-smile. “Thanks to her workouts I’m wearing a size smaller in pants than when I arrived, and I still get to enjoy her grandmother’s fabulous apple pie, which we’re having for dessert this evening.”
Babbling. She was babbling. Would it work to send them in another direction?
Her son’s nose twitched. “Is that your spaghetti sauce?” He got up and wandered into the kitchen carrying his glass. Her rambling words probably didn’t redirect them, but Ethan’s fabled sense of smell did. “Umm. Nobody makes this the way you do, Mom.” He stuck in a spoon and brought it to his mouth. “Can’t wait to dig in.”
“Need any help?” Ellen asked.
“Sure. Get the salad from the refrigerator, and, Ethan, in a minute pop the French bread into the oven. The pasta will be done in a minute.”
Jill waited until they’d finished their meal and opened a second bottle of wine. They sat comfortably in the dining room, the candles burning low. They’d talked about Ellen’s research, Ethan’s training, speculated about when or if he’d be deployed, and how she and the shop were doing.
“There’s something I want to talk about with you.” She took another swallow of wine. The fingers of both hands entwined around the stem, while she searched for the right words. Lord, this whole thing had made her a crazy woman. “I don’t quite know where to start.”
“The beginning is best,” Ellen said, always practical.
“You’re aware your grandfather spent many years fighting the extension of casino gambling in Texas...”
Her children sat in stunned silence while she related what she knew of the situation. She included the likelihood gambling proponents had their father and grandfather killed. She only omitted the masked gunman’s words to her right before he shot Karen. The memory made her cringe. So far, she’d told no one about his threat.
The only reason she’d been able to get away with her silence was Karen’s amnesia. She remembered seeing the large vehicle in her rear-view mirror, but nothing after that.
“You’re sure your accident didn’t have anything to do with what you’ve been telling us?” Ethan set his glass on the table.
He’d always been good at problem solving, going to the heart of the matter, which was the reason the Army trained him in the intelligence field. Jill had never lied to her children at any age, but the truth would cause them a great deal of worry.
Since they couldn’t do anything about the situation, she opted for a half-truth. “We don’t know.” Later, she’d deal with the guilt of not being entirely honest with the twins along with the guilt of knowing she brought such danger to this lovely town and its people.
After the twins returned to the Inn, Jill got ready for bed. Had she made a mistake? Primarily she’d wanted to make sure they took precautions with their own safety. After she turned over the flash drive, it would be over. God, she prayed that was true. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and she had a lot to be grateful for.
Anne invited her family to the house for the meal, but Jill wanted private time with her kids because she saw them so seldom. She’d agreed to stop by early in the evening for pumpkin pie. She’d skip the inn’s excellent dessert offerings to make room for Anne’s. Tomorrow would be a wonderful day.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23
Jill reluctantly bid her children goodbye but hugged the memories of the special holiday close. If she weren’t mistaken, she’d see more of Ethan whenever he found an opportunity to get away. He seemed to be taken with Liz. Well, Jill wouldn’t be upset if something came of that. Liz was a great young woman.
How would her Pilates instructor feel about moving around the country? Jill hadn’t inquired what Ethan and Jerrod had been in deep conversation about. She didn’t want to know, but she was glad they seemed to get on.
Jill unlocked the store on Friday at ten o’clock. Sally and Mary Ann would come in later in the day. Jill had given them extra time off. Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday, but she was glad to get back to routine with the store again and was content after the wonderful, though brief, visit with her kids.
Maybe this business with the flash drive was over. She’d been certain they’d have called by now. What was going on? Shoving aside troubling thoughts, she smiled at an early customer. “Good morning, Mr. Slaughter. How was your Thanksgiving? Eat a lot of turkey?”
He was one of the town leaders, a contemporary of Anne’s. Probably a little sweet on the woman. “Oh, my goodness, yes. My daughter puts on quite a spread.” He patted his stomach. “How was your day?”
“Perfect. My children came.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket, a little tickle. “The Woodstock Inn’s dinner is hard to match. How can I help you this morning?”
“I want something for my granddaughter’s birthday, Jill. Found something for her here last year. She liked it a great deal.”
“If you don’t have anything else in mind, I can check the files to find what you bought then and see if we have any items by the same artist.”
“Let me browse first then maybe I’ll have you do that.” He walked toward the display counters at the back of the store.
“No problem.” When her phone tingled against her leg again, Jill reached for it. Maybe the kids had trouble getting to the airport. “Hello?”
“Where’s the flash drive?”
The gravelly words sent chills across her shoulders and down her arms. Her stomach clenched like she’d taken a punch. She drew in a shaky breath.
“Tell me. Or don’t you remember the episode on the road with your friend?”
Jill’s fingers tightened around the small cell. Instantly her mouth went dry and swallowing became difficult. She licked her lips. “I—I remember. I’ll tell you. Don’t hurt anyone else, please.” She prayed her children had made it to Hartford and were safely in the air.
“I can see the woman from where I’m standing, and unless you want her to take another bullet, spit it out, bitch.”
“Citizen’s Bank.”
“What?”
“In a safe deposit box.”
“Crap. How long until you can get there?”
“It’s on the west side of the green. About fifteen minutes if I leave right now.”
“Go. And, bitch, don’t try to talk to anyone else. I’m watching you, too.”
“Is anything wrong?”
She whirled, startled. Mr. Slaughter. She’d forgotten him. He stood so close, he must’ve heard.
“Oh, uh, no. Would you mind checking back with me? I—I, uh, have a splitting headache, and I’ve left my medicine at home. I’m sorry to inconvenience you.” The man’s eyebrows rose with obvious questions she suspected he was too polite to verbalize.
“No problem. Can I run you home? I was lucky to get a spot right out front.”
“No. The fresh air will do me good.” She dashed to the back room, grabbed her purse and the long, insulated coat she’d purchased in Lebanon with Karen. “I hate to rush you. Thanks so much for understanding.”
She had to wait for Mr. Slaughter to leave, so she could open a display case where she hid the safe deposit box key. It sat in a purple glass container. She slid the safe deposit box key into her coat pocket, closed the shop door, and twisted the lock. Turning left onto Church Street, she pulled her hat and gloves out of her pockets and put them on. Brisk steps took her past the green between the Woodstock Inn and Anne’s house, praying her friend wouldn’t look out and want her to stop and chat. The road angled north.
Before she’d gone many blocks, despite her warm clothes, she was freezing. Her breath turned the air in front of her frosty white.
“Morning, Jill.”
She didn’t take time to place the voice and kept her gaze glued to the ground. She didn’t even nod, intent on putting one foot in front of the other, taking safe, quick steps, praying to put this ordeal behind her. A quick peek at her watch told her it was now close to the allotted fifteen minutes. If the bastard watched her, he’d see she hadn’t talked with anyone and was following his instructions.
She couldn’t stand for anything else happening to Karen. Could it be a bluff? Maybe no one watched either of them, but Jill wasn’t taking chances with her friend’s life.