Jack moved away as Quinn stepped outside, started up the gas grill, and approached Beth. “Did you take anything for that headache today?”
“No.”
Quinn sighed. “Did you get that prescription filled?”
“No. I don’t like to take drugs.”
“Nauseous?” Quinn sat down in the chair next to Beth.
She shrank back a hair. “A little.”
“Sleeping?” Quinn dug a penlight out of his pocket and checked her eyes.
“No. She doesn’t sleep very much,” Jack called out from the other side of the patio, where he was using his cane to fill in a small hole Henry had dug in the mulched flowerbed. Beth flashed an angry glare in his direction.
Quinn went back into the house and returned a minute later. He handed her a small tablet. “This is for nausea. Your choice.” At her doubtful stare, he added dryly, “It’s not crack or heroin, promise.”
She squinted up at him for a few seconds before taking the pill and washing it down with lemonade.
“I’ll send you home with some samples. There’s no reason to feel awful when you don’t have to. And remind me to take out those stitches before you leave.” Quinn turned toward the boys. “Steven’s working on his batting.” He raised his voice and called out over the field, “Let me get the burgers on. Then I’ll throw you some balls, Steven.”
“I can toss him some, Dr. Wilson,” Ben offered, trotting over to the makeshift mound. Steven grabbed a bat. Mark jogged out a dozen yards behind Ben.
Sean emerged from the house and handed Quinn a platter of food. “I’ll catch.” He grabbed a mitt and walked over to Steven, squatting down a safe distance behind him.
Ben threw an easy pitch right across the plate. Steven swung, missed. The ball hit Sean’s mitt dead center with a solid thump.
Sean raised an eyebrow, threw the ball back to Ben. Another perfect, easy pitch sailed dead center over the plate. Thump. Sean glanced over at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders. After correcting Steven’s stance and raising the boy’s elbow a few inches, Sean tossed the ball back to Ben, who continued to throw until Steven hit a grounder.
“Can you throw a fastball, Ben?” Sean asked in a deceptively nonchalant tone. At the grill, Quinn’s head swiveled toward the boys like a hawk sighting a mouse.
“Sure.” Ben put a little more effort into his windup and let the ball fly. It sailed across the plate and hit Sean’s mitt with a loud smacking sound.
Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, man.”
Jack glanced at Beth, but he didn’t think she’d heard. Her eyelids drooped, and her head lolled back on the chair’s high back. Once again, the complete exhaustion on her face troubled Jack, but at least she was finally getting some rest. He turned back to the boys and crossed the yard to get a better view.
Quinn closed the grill. “I’ll throw you a few, Ben. Mark, you and Steven field.”
Quinn took the mound. Ben swung, making solid contact and sending the ball sailing far out into the pasture.
“Sorry, Dr. Wilson. I’ll go get it.” Ben jogged off into the pasture, followed by Steven, Mark, and Henry, who raced ahead of the boys to steal the baseball. Quinn and Sean started back toward the patio.
“Henry, give it back!” Steven yelled as Henry dodged his attempt to take the ball.
Jack looked over at Beth, sound asleep. He frowned at the awkward tilt of her head.
“Earth to Jack.” Quinn tapped him on the shoulder. “Did you know he could play like that?”
Steven dragged Henry to the back door and shoved him into the house.
“I had no idea.” Jack motioned toward Beth. “What did you give her, Quinn? She’s out cold.”
“Just something for the nausea. She looked like shit warmed over. Drowsiness is a side effect.”
Jack shook his head. “You probably should’ve mentioned that.”
“No worries. She’ll feel better when she wakes up.” Quinn shrugged and waved him off. “Now, back to Ben and my vision of him on my Little League team in the spring. When’s his birthday? He’s twelve, right? Please tell me he doesn’t turn thirteen until after January first.”
Sean got a beer from the cooler and joined Jack and Quinn.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced back at Beth, still sleeping, then looked out into the pasture where the three boys had returned to playing catch. He lowered his voice so only his cousins could hear and summarized his suspicions and his conversation with Ben.
“You need help, you call me.” Sean’s blue eyes went flat.
Jack had already counted on Sean’s help. Not only did Sean’s home security company install top-notch systems, but his cousin had unsavory associates with access to records that weren’t legally available to the general public.
“For starters, let’s talk about bringing the estate’s alarm into this century.” Jack leaned closer to Sean and lowered his voice. “Then I want you to do a little research for me. Completely under the radar.”
His cousin nodded. “Tell me what you have.”
“Not here.” Jack’s gaze shot to Beth, stirring to life on the patio. He shook his head. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Beth sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her head felt like it was filled with rubber cement. What the hell had Quinn given her?
“Good, you’re awake. Dinner’s almost ready.” A few feet away Amanda set down a huge tray of condiments on the picnic table. Behind her, Claire carried a bowl of salad and a tall glass.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Beth would have blushed if her nerve endings weren’t semicomatose.
“Not your fault. My husband drugged you.” Claire smiled as she handed her an iced tea. “He should be apologizing to you. Quinn can be presumptuous. He always thinks he knows what’s best. Unfortunately for his super-sized ego, he’s usually right. Some caffeine should perk you up a bit. You’ve got a few minutes yet until the burgers are ready.”
Claire and Amanda returned to the house to retrieve more food.
Jack stood with his cousins on the other side of the yard, watching the boys play catch in the field. He caught Beth’s eye and walked over to sit in the chair next to her. He set his cane aside and stretched out his damaged leg. His uninjured knee touched hers. Beth, still woozy, stared at the hard length of Jack’s thigh.
“You OK?” He must have thought she was zoning out because he rested a hand on her forearm, and Beth felt something inside go warm and pliant. The drug suppressed her anxiety and inhibitions, and all she could think about was Jack’s body so close to hers. Close enough to touch. Her hormones needed a leash. The familiar and enticing scent of Jack’s aftershave drifted to her nose, and Beth felt the undeniable ache for him deep in her belly. Yikes.
She moved her knee away from his and nodded. “Yes, but I don’t like sedatives.”
“Ben’s a great baseball player. Hell of an arm.” Jack changed the subject with a frown as she tugged her arm out from under his hand.
Distracted, Beth sucked down some iced tea, willing the caffeine to jump-start her brain cells. “I know. It’s genetic. He used to play on the travel team. His father played in the minors.” She bit her lip as that bit of personal information popped out of her mouth. Thankfully, Jack didn’t pursue that thread of the conversation, but it reinforced the reason she didn’t drink alcohol, not even a single glass of wine. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
“Don’t tell Quinn. He’s already drooling.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Claire shouted inside the house, then again outside.
The screen door opened. Katie and two little blond-haired girls emerged with Henry at their heels. The big shepherd wore a yellow bonnet, tied in a fat bow under his chin.
“Uncle Jack! Look, we painted his nails.” One of the blondes dragged the hundred-pound dog over to Jack by the collar. Bright pink polish coated the dog’s nails.
Jack hung his head toward his seven-year-old niece. “Sam, you
’re killing me here.”
Sam grinned. Henry wagged his tail and licked her face.
“Christ! Let me get my camera.” Quinn wiped the tears from his eyes and ran into the house. “You’re never gonna live this one down, Jack.”
Sean laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair. Sam released Henry and climbed into her father’s lap. Her younger sister, Ally, claimed his other knee. “What’s so funny, Daddy?”
Even angry with Quinn, Beth couldn’t contain a snicker.
Henry looked hopefully at the platter of hamburgers on the table and drooled. Katie sidled up between Beth and Jack. Then, to Beth’s surprise, the little girl leaned on Jack’s shoulder.
“Want to sit with me?” Jack whispered. When she nodded her head, he lifted her into his lap and wrapped both arms around her. She rested her head against his chest.
In the next chair, Beth’s heart ached. Katie didn’t even remember her father, nor had she ever had anyone to fill that hole in her life.
After nightfall, they drove back in Jack’s truck. Katie fell asleep in the back seat. Ben yawned, and Henry snored. Instead of driving around to the garage, Jack parked at the head of the circular drive. Beth got out of the car and opened the back door to pick up Katie, but Jack was already there.
“I’ve got her.” He lifted her up onto his shoulder and carried her into the house.
“But your leg…”
“She doesn’t weigh anything, Beth.” He held Katie in place with one hand. He left his cane just inside the front door and leaned on the banister.
Beth followed them up the steps. Katie looked small and helpless draped over Jack’s big body. In the child’s bedroom, he set her on the bed and started to remove her pink sneakers.
Beth’s breath hitched at the site of Jack performing such an intimate, parental chore. “I’ll take it from here.”
Swallowing any reaction to her rebuff, Jack stepped back as Beth took his place at Katie’s side. “OK. Good night.” As he turned to leave, Henry pushed past his legs and settled on the floor, resting his black muzzle on his huge, pink-tipped paws.
“Jack?” Beth didn’t look at him as she tucked Katie into bed. “Thanks. They had a good time today.”
The kids had chased lightning bugs, eaten too much ice cream, and done all the things normal kids did on a hot summer night. Beth had gotten through it, too. After the drowsiness had passed, her head hadn’t ached. She’d even eaten a hamburger.
“I’m glad.” Jack paused in the doorway. “I know you’re mad at Quinn, but he sent some of those pills home for you. You might want to consider taking one before you go to bed. I’ll leave them in the top kitchen cabinet with the aspirin.” Before she could respond, Jack turned and left the room.
Loneliness crushed her chest. Her next deep breath threatened to split her open. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The pressure didn’t abate.
What she really wanted to do was follow him and climb in his lap like Katie had earlier. But that same thought also terrified her.
Beth brushed the hair from her daughter’s forehead. Jack had slipped through their defenses. How could her kids endure yet another separation if—no, when—it became necessary? Eventually they would have to leave. This would be over only when Richard was dead. He’d probably sent hired help to kill her. She and Richard wouldn’t ever end up face to face. And she could never go after him herself. Shooting someone in self-defense was one thing. Premeditated murder was quite another.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beth sat on the living room sofa and flipped through a landscaping magazine on her lap, feet curled under her body. She stopped to make a few notes on pruning overgrown rhododendrons. A purple jungle suffocated one side of the house. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, and she closed the magazine. Enough eyeball strain for the moment. On the floor in front of the couch, Ben and Katie worked on a puzzle they’d found in an upstairs closet. Stretched out beside them, Henry snored. The overcast late-morning light filtered through the blinds, projecting stripes across the thick Oriental rug.
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 in
jured 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.”
She Can Run Page 15