She Can Run

by Melinda Leigh

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  In the final weeks of summer, darkness fell earlier every day, as if the season itself were tired and in a hurry to be over. The soft evening light that lasted until nine o’clock in June faded before eight as September approached. By ten o’clock, night had fallen in earnest. Mary Ann steered her ancient Corolla through the last stoplight in town and turned onto the country road toward home. Her arches protested the extra half shift the manager had forced her to work after he’d fired the other waitress on duty for dropping a loaded tray. Carl hadn’t been nicknamed “The Prick” by accident. He’d earned it. Carl didn’t usually bother Mary Ann though, as her husband intimidated her boss at every opportunity.

  Thoughts of Robert and home perked her up. She couldn’t wait to take a hot bath. Her husband would pour her a glass of wine and rub her feet. Maybe they’d work on making that baby tonight if she didn’t fall asleep first.

  Ten minutes from home, Pink’s latest faded into Nickelback’s “If Today Was Your Last Day.” Mary Ann turned up the radio and was singing along when the steering wheel began to pull in her hands. She rolled down her window a few inches to hear a familiar whump, whump, whump.

  Damn. She did not need this right now.

  She pulled over to the shoulder of the dark road and got out of her old Toyota, circling around the front of the car to examine the front right tire. Giving in to a fleeting childish temper tantrum, she planted a solid kick on the flat rubber. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and held her breath as she illuminated the display. Reception was spotty on this stretch of road. Shoot. No bars. So much for her network.

  The damp night air chilled her skin, raising goose bumps. Insect noises echoed from the surrounding woods. An owl screeched, and Mary Ann jumped. There wasn’t anything dangerous to humans out there in the forest, but still…Better get this done and get home. If she didn’t show up in the next thirty minutes, Robert would come looking for her. His protectiveness was legendary.

  She circled around to the rear of the vehicle and opened the trunk. After lifting the rubbery carpet out of the way, she reached for the tire iron.

  A car engine approached. She straightened and turned toward the sound. Headlights sped closer along the country lane, pulled to the side, and stopped behind her car. Mary Ann held up her hand and squinted against the glare. A figure exited the car, unidentifiable in silhouette against the bright light. The shadow walked toward her. She exhaled in relief when she saw the familiar face.

  “Hey, there, Mary Ann. Can I give you a hand?”

  Philadelphia was a beautiful city. Sure, like any other urban center, it had its problems, but this seat of American democracy was infused with history. Visitors could walk through the rooms where the founding fathers debated and wrote the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. From the aged red brick colonial buildings in Old City to the racing sculls at Boathouse Row, Philadelphia’s legacy shone like a patriotic beacon.

  James would have enjoyed a few days to view the historic sights. Philadelphia reminded him of why he’d gone to war all those years ago, and what had been at stake. He’d been sent to Vietnam to preserve democracy. All those antiwar protesters could kiss his hairy old ass. Forty years might have passed, but the way he’d been treated when he’d returned still burned him. Bunch of commies.

  But what really stuck in his throat was men like Baker, who used their position in government for their own gain and shit on people in the process. James took such acts of selfishness as a personal betrayal. He’d shed blood for this country. He’d watched countless men die protecting its ideals. No one should get away with corrupting it.

  So, the sightseeing would have to wait. James had a mission. This visit would be all business.

  He made his way to the affluent Main Line region northwest of the city after dark. Congressman Baker’s house was in the old money part of town, where homes all sold in the millions. James cruised down the tree-lined street at a leisurely pace, looking for an inconspicuous place to park his rented sedan. He drove past the congressman’s address without stopping. Mature and stately, the big stone house sat back from the road. Tasteful landscaping lights illuminated the shrubs and flowers lining the facade, which was partially hidden from view by a few massive oaks.

  James left the car by a small park down the road, then walked back. He’d brought a cane, and added a stoop to his shoulders and a shuffle to his stride. He did his best to look frail, though the street was dark enough that his appearance didn’t matter much. Nobody really looked at old people.

  Ten minutes later he gloved up, crouched behind a shrub, and picked the pathetic lock on Baker’s back door. Behind him a patch of woods provided excellent privacy. For an expensive home, the security system was a joke. James bypassed the alarm and entered the commercial quality kitchen in under ninety seconds.

  Not bad for an old fart.

  According to Baker’s agenda, the congressman would be in Washington until tomorrow afternoon. Then he was taking a long weekend at home. Based on James’s surveillance, he knew the housekeeper arrived around noon and stayed until eight, whether Baker was in residence or not. The gardener showed up at six a.m. So the place was fair game all night.

  Here in the back of the house, James risked a quick sweep of his penlight to get the lay of the land. Acres of granite, marble, and stainless steel made the room feel about as inviting as a mausoleum. No need to fine-tooth the kitchen. Baker probably didn’t spend much time in there.

  James ambled through the antique-filled living room, which looked more like a museum than a house. He bet nobody had ever put their feet up on the glossy Federal style coffee table or leaned back on that stiff leather settee and cracked a beer. A few photos of Beth were perched on the grand piano. Beautiful as always, but she didn’t look particularly happy in any of them. Newlywed bliss must have faded before the champagne toast. There were only two pictures of the kids.

  He moved on to search the rest of the house. Baker was more likely to hide something interesting in the private rooms. A wall safe in the master bedroom yielded a few pieces of jewelry, no doubt the real deal, that James considered pocketing just for the hell of it. But a theft would tip Baker off that someone had been in his house, which would defeat the purpose of tonight’s maneuvers. The study held another safe. His gloved fingers worked their magic. Nothing exciting inside, just a pile of legal documents and a few grand in cash. Not enough to cause any real suspicion. For a guy with this kind of coin, a few thou was pocket change. Couldn’t take the money either. With a resigned sigh, James left the stacks of bills inside the safe.

  But the basement proved to be a real treasure trove. James missed Baker’s cache on the first pass. But a second, slower perusal uncovered a well-concealed space underneath the stairs that held a collection of unmarked DVDs. Interesting. He slid two into his pocket for future viewing and swept the rest of the room once more before calling it a night.

  He strolled back to his car, stooping his shoulders and walking with a practiced hitch in his gait. No one paid any attention.

  Later, back in his elegant room at the Bellevue Hotel, he opened his laptop and slipped in one of the discs. The opening credits read “Romeo and Julian.”

  He’d just confirmed his theory about Baker’s secret; now if only he could prove it.

  With a click on the X, he closed the media player.

  Beth must have discovered that her husband preferred other men. Must have been a hell of a surprise. He thought of her skittish behavior. Or maybe not. Powerful men with secrets were dangerous. Regardless, James needed some real proof. A couple of gay porn DVDs in the congressman’s basement didn’t prove anything. Hell, Baker would just claim they belonged to the gardener. And if the Mexican immigrant wanted to keep his green card, he’d dance out of the imaginary closet in yellow chiffon if his employer asked him to.

  No, he needed real evidence of the congressman’s sexual preference. He wanted Baker by the short hairs.
If James’s suspicions were right, that look he’d seen between Baker and his aide hadn’t been one of the boss-employee variety. Now, if the congressman was taking a long weekend off, what were the chances his boy toy might accompany him? Pretty damned good.

  Going up against the congressman was dangerous business, but James didn’t care. He was old. Beth had her whole life ahead of her, and he’d do everything in his power to make sure she got to live it. If it was his time, so be it. As the saying went, he’d rather go out with a bang than a whimper, anyway. If that happened, he’d just have to make sure he took the congressman with him.

  He needed to catch up with Beth soon. The visions were gaining clarity every day, but it still felt like he had some time. Hopefully enough time to get what he needed. He’d spend the weekend right here, with a telephoto lens aimed at the congressman’s window.

  Branigan Road stretched in both directions, empty and black, slicing through the thick forest. He waited until Mary Ann turned her back to him to point out which tire had gone flat. Like he didn’t know. She was still dressed in her waitress uniform. The sneakers weren’t exactly a turn-on, but the white skirt that ended just above her knees gave him a nice view of her smooth, tanned legs. And the subservient images the uniform inspired more than made up for the shoes. In an instant, he was as hard as the metal bar he slid from his pocket.

  With a quiver of excitement, he brought the bar down on her head, catching her body as she pitched forward. She sagged in his arms. He ducked under her and pulled her torso over his shoulder. She was smaller than Amelia had been, and he had no trouble balancing her weight. A few seconds later, she was curled on the tarp in his trunk like she was taking a nap. Aside from the blood dripping down her temple, she looked quite peaceful.

  This was the dangerous part of the abduction—which naturally made it the most exciting as well. If anyone happened by at this moment, the game would be up. Mary Ann’s unconscious body in his trunk would be tough to explain. Of course, he was prepared to kill anyone who stumbled on him at this vulnerable moment, but then he’d have to move on. His evening would be totally ruined.

  Mary Ann groaned. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  Patience. There were details that needed to be addressed before he could indulge.

  He glanced up and down the dark road. No cars in sight. He drew a hypodermic from his kit and measured out enough Ace to keep her out of it for a while, at least until he got her home and set up his work area. He kept the dose light. He didn’t want to kill her accidentally. He wanted to kill her on purpose. As a final safety measure, he looped duct tape around her wrists and ankles. There was nothing worse than opening the trunk and having a pissed-off woman launch herself at him. Been there, done that.

  Leaning over, he scooped the blood from her face with a small spatula, then placed it in a Ziploc bag with a couple of long, dark hairs plucked directly from Mary Ann’s head. He closed the trunk. Crickets chirped from the surrounding forest as he went around to the front of his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. His luck couldn’t have been better. When he’d jammed the nail into her tire, he’d gambled the tire wouldn’t go flat in the parking lot. On the other hand, it could have held until she got home to Robert. There was no way he’d take the chance of that monster seeing him anywhere near his wife. Robert could and would break him into little pieces.

  But fate had blessed him, and the tire had made it just to the outskirts of town. In fact, this section of road was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  He patted the baggie in his chest pocket. He had one more small matter to take care of before he could truly enjoy his time with Mary Ann. One more detail to ensure no one would suspect him. Then she was all his.

  He started the engine and pulled out onto the road, humming the theme to Gilligan’s Island under his breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Beth pushed her cart into the checkout lane at Wal-Mart and began pulling items out of the blue plastic cart. A bathing suit for each child, socks, two pairs of clearance jeans, and a paperback for Ben hit the conveyer belt, along with a small package of Polly Pocket dolls for Katie, just like the ones she and Jack’s nieces had played with at Quinn’s. An indulgence for sure, but Beth had just cashed her first paycheck. An extra three dollars wasn’t going to break the bank. The smile the purchase brought to her daughter’s face was worth every penny.

  Katie refused to allow the cashier to put her package in a bag and clutched the box against her chest as they walked across the steaming parking lot. Overhead the midday sun cut through a hazy sky.

  They stowed the bags behind the driver’s seat of the estate’s extended cab pickup, which Jack had insisted she drive when he learned the air conditioner in her station wagon didn’t work. She’d protested, but as they climbed into the stifling cab, she was grateful.

  She’d avoided Jack all morning, along with the discussion he would want to have about last night. She should regret what had passed between them, but she couldn’t. He’d shown her that passion was still possible. In fact, it had almost been a reality. But they had no future together. Jack was a good man, and hurting him wasn’t right. What happened last night couldn’t happen again.

  She and Ben rolled down their windows to let some of the heat escape as she turned the key. The truck was only a few years old and started on the first try. They were going to get spoiled.

  She snorted. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been driving a Mercedes. And look how that had turned out for her.

  She could use Jack’s truck for now, but what would she do if her station wagon died on her? A new car would eat up her entire emergency fund, and she had no way to replenish it. She had a little money in the bank from before her marriage, but there was no way she could access her savings. Richard would be monitoring her bank accounts, and he’d find her in a heartbeat.

  “Is your seat belt fastened?” Beth glanced in the rearview mirror at her daughter.

  “Yes, Mommy.” In her booster seat in the center of the second row, Katie held her unopened box tightly, as if it were filled with precious gems instead of three-inch dolls. “I’m hungry.”

  Beth checked the dashboard clock and met her daughter’s gaze in the mirror. “We’ll be home in a bit. Would you like a grilled cheese for lunch today?”

  Katie smiled and nodded.

  Ben leaned over and changed the radio station as Beth pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, then merged onto the interstate. Metrostation blared from the speakers, and Ben’s head began to bob like a dashboard dog. Beth reached down and lowered the volume to slightly below deafening. Ben shot her a grin, and she smiled back at him. The ordinariness of the exchange felt alien and almost blissfully normal at the same time.

  A few miles later, she exited onto the narrow, mountainous road that led toward Westbury. Cool air began to rush from the vents, and she sighed in relief as it washed over her sweat-dampened face.

  She slowed the truck as they approached a sharp bend in the road. Vertically-sheered-off rock extended up the left side of the road and plummeted on the right. She glanced in her rearview mirror and gasped when she glimpsed a shiny black sedan bearing down on them. Beth stepped on the gas, but the car continued to gain ground until it was just a few feet behind them. She couldn’t go any faster, not with the curve just ahead.

  Suddenly, the pickup jerked forward. The sedan had slammed into the truck’s rear bumper.

  “Mom!”

  Beth had no time to respond to Ben’s shout. She clenched the steering wheel and focused on keeping the truck centered on the narrow road. Metal crunched, and the truck lurched forward again as the sedan rear-ended it a second time. The wheel jerked in her hands, and the truck hurtled toward the guardrail and the fifty-foot drop on the other side.

  Beth pulled the wheel hard to the left, crossing into the oncoming lane. Tires squealed. Katie screamed. With a loud metallic scrape, the truck lurched sideways against the rock wall. Beth fought to keep
the vehicle straight as the sedan whipped by in a black blur. Before Beth could catch her breath, a horn blew. She swerved back into the proper lane, barely avoiding a head-on collision.

  The wheel wobbled under her hands. The truck’s engine sputtered.

  After they cleared the bend, the road widened and Beth pulled over. Her chest constricted, and nausea rose into the back of her throat. She exhaled the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. Hands shaking, chest heaving, she looked both her children over. Ben’s knuckles were white and his face, pale. In the backseat, her daughter cried. Beth’s pounding heart ached for her. She took a deep, steadying breath.

  “It’s all right, baby.” As soon as she was certain her legs would hold her up, she’d get the kids out of the car.

  Katie’s voice shook. “What happened, Mommy?”

  Beth cleared her throat and attempted to control her voice. It came out smooth enough, but a little higher than normal. “Just an accident. We’re all fine. Nobody got hurt and that’s all that matters.” Except that Jack’s truck was trashed. She looked through the windshield. The hood was buckled on one side, and steam hissed out from underneath. The damage to the side had to be worse than what she could see from the driver’s seat, and she didn’t even want to think about the back of the truck. She turned the car off.

  “Accident?” Ben’s brows were knitted, but he said nothing else in front of his sister.

  Before Beth could answer, a white Toyota pulled up behind them. An elderly woman got out and walked up to Beth’s window. “Is everyone all right, dear?” At Beth’s nod, the woman continued, “I saw the whole thing. Probably some drunk. I called the police on my cell.” She held out one blue-veined hand for Beth to shake. “I’m Ellen Wheelan. Let’s get you all out of there.”

  It took fifteen minutes for a police car to drive up. Beth left the children in Ellen’s car, where the older woman had insisted they take refuge from the blistering heat. Despite the humidity, Beth was shivering.