She Can Run

by Melinda Leigh

  The only positive emotion rolling through her head was her love for Jack, still not proclaimed verbally, but in her heart just the same. He hadn’t said it either, but the passion in his lovemaking this morning told her he returned the feeling.

  The kids loved him, too. They’d been so relieved to learn they no longer had to conceal their real identities.

  The sound of water rushing over rock soothed Beth’s ragged nerves. She relaxed in the saddle with a deep, cleansing breath.

  The breeze shifted. Lucy’s head snapped up. Her nostrils flared as they entered the shadows of the woods. The scent of something decayed drifted past Beth’s face for a second before the wind shifted again and it was gone. The mare neighed, shrill and lingering in the morning silence. Beth gathered up the slack reins, her bowels knotting with apprehension.

  Beth stroked the base of Lucy’s neck. The horse’s skin twitched, and she chomped nervously at the bit. Although spirited, Lucy wasn’t normally skittish.

  “Easy, girl. What’s the matter?” Big ears swiveled back to listen to Beth’s voice. The creek appeared as they rounded the bend in the trail. Lucy stopped short, long legs splayed, nostrils and eyes wide-open.

  Something was wrong. Something was out there. The knot in Beth’s belly tightened as she pulled the mare’s head around, preparing to turn back, when she saw the form in the water. The breath rushed from her lungs as if she’d been struck. Although obscured by thick foliage, Beth knew exactly what it was.

  The woman’s body lay facedown, tangled in tree roots and partially covered in organic debris at the water’s edge. There was no need to look for signs of life. The skin was gray and bloated. Dark hair floated in the muddy water like a soft, brown halo around the woman’s head. Flies buzzed around the corpse. In the gentle current, a dry leaf drifted off the shoulder, revealing a small butterfly tattoo.

  Lightheaded, Beth grasped the pommel of the saddle. The trees spun. The woods closed in upon her, abruptly claustrophobic.

  The wind shifted once again. Beth could smell it again, more pungent this time, the putrid scent of rotting flesh. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she gagged. She dug in her pocket for the cell phone Jack had given her, praying she wouldn’t drop it. Turning on the phone, she held down number two with shaking fingers, speed dialing the house.

  She heard the phone ring, then Jack’s voice, still raspy from sleep, a few seconds later. “Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m all right, so don’t get upset.” She tried to steady her voice, but it caught and quivered anyway. “I’m in the woods. I think I found Mary Ann Spencer.”

  “Beth, I want you to get out of there. Come back to the house. I’m on my way.”

  Beth hung up and turned Lucy’s head to point the mare toward home. Tears gushed hot from her eyes, and she blinked to clear her blurred vision. Luckily, Lucy knew which way to go and headed back down the trail at a brisk trot. Beth concentrated on maintaining her balance as her head swam with grisly images. The sound of buzzing flies echoed in her head.

  The mare broke into a canter when they broke free of the forest. Beth pulled her to a stop as soon as she saw the Explorer bumping across the meadow toward her. Sliding off of the horse’s back, she leaned against the big animal for support. She stood there wobbling until she felt Jack’s strong arm around her waist, catching her as she slid toward the ground. The reins dropped from her grip. Her body was cold from the inside out. Breathing hard, she gasped for air to fight the increasing dizziness.

  “You’re hyperventilating. Take a deep breath and hold it.” Jack opened the tailgate of the truck and helped her into the back. He pushed her head down to her knees. She didn’t seem to have any control over her trembling extremities.

  “Exhale. Again. Deep breath, hold it.” Once she had her breathing under control, he handed her Lucy’s reins. “Can you hold on to her? If not, I’ll let her go. She’ll head for the barn, right?”

  “I’ll take her,” Beth whispered and wiped her forearm across her eyes. He cupped her cheek with his hand, stroking a tear off the side of her face with his thumb. The sorrow she saw in his eyes was a reflection of her own.

  “I’ll be right back.” He turned away, using his cane to limp toward the trees.

  Freezing, Beth clenched the leather reins in her fist. Her uncontrollable shaking faded to shivers and left nausea in its place. She pulled her knees up to her chest in an upright fetal position, and rested her forehead on her jeans. Good thing she hadn’t had breakfast yet. Lucy, in tune with her mistress’s moods, butted her head against Beth’s legs.

  Jack reappeared, his face hard, his mouth set in a grim line as he sat next to her on the tailgate. “I called Mike.”

  She only nodded in response. Her initial hysteria subdued, an overwhelming sadness filled Beth. Seeing that young girl dead, discarded naked in the slime and mud, filled Beth with more despair than she had felt even at the peak of Richard’s torment. She thought of Robert Spencer, whose entire world was going to come crashing down on him this chilly, damp morning. She knew from experience he would want to see his spouse before he would believe it was Mary Ann.

  Brian had suffered mostly internal injuries in the accident that killed him, and his face had looked normal, too normal, when she saw him on the viewing screen in the morgue. She remembered that moment with a stab of renewed loss. How would Robert possibly view Mary Ann’s bloated, rotting body, see what some animal had done to the woman he loved, and survive?

  Death was final. There was no time for a final kiss or caress, to apologize for a harsh word or argument. The world imploded with no warning. Beth knew what it was like to experience the loss of your spouse, your best friend, your lover, all at the same time. To be alone, dealing with the worst event of your life without the one person you always expected to have at your side to help you through the rough patches. The sheer weight of the emptiness was enough to suffocate a person.

  Her brother’s and parents’ deaths had nearly been the end of her. Thank God she’d met Brian. He’d given her new hope. When Brian died, Beth had a baby to care for, and Ben’s grief to worry about, which took precedence over her own despair. At least during the daylight hours, she was busy, her mind occupied with formulating coping strategies for Ben, her body dealing with the demands of an infant. At night, though, the loneliness nearly crushed her.

  Robert had no children to distract him, to force him to rise and face each day. Adding to his trauma was the cruelty and horror inflicted upon his wife. How would he ever close his eyes again without seeing the wounds on the body he’d made love to, feeling the pain and terror she suffered? The media would make sure the public knew every detail of his wife’s horrific death. He wouldn’t be able to escape it.

  Jack’s arm came around her shoulders, breaking both her trance and the thin layer of numbed control she’d been sustaining. Blood roared in her ears. The chattering of her own teeth echoed in her head. Her brain briefly registered flashing lights before all sights and sounds faded to black.

  She opened her eyes to find herself flat on her back in the bed of the Explorer, her feet propped up against the window. A fleece blanket was tucked around her body. She could hear Jack’s voice and turned her head toward the sound. He sat on the tailgate next to her. She felt the weight of his hand on her thigh. Lucy was tied to a nearby tree.

  “It’s her.” Chief O’Connell was standing a few feet away. He’d removed his hat and was running his hand through his short red hair. “You better get her up to the house. I’ll need a statement from Ms. Markham later. I have to wait for the crime scene van, so I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up here.” The cop turned and stalked back to his car.

  He knows.

  Beth blinked a few times to clear her vision. Images came rushing into her head with painful clarity, the grotesque shock rising in her throat, choking her. She felt Jack’s arm around her. He helped her onto the passenger seat, and then drove back to the house.

  “Easy
. I don’t need you fainting again.”

  Fainting? She had never fainted in her entire life, not even when she’d found her father. She’d gone numb instead.

  By the time they made it back to the kitchen, the kids were up. The smell of freshly baked biscuits turned Beth’s stomach. Mrs. Harris took one look at her face and handed her a glass of ice water while Jack delivered the bad news. Beth hated for the children to have to hear about it, but she wouldn’t be able to conceal the police activity at the house today.

  “Is it the lady that’s missing?” Ben asked tentatively. “The waitress?”

  “The person hasn’t been identified yet, Ben,” Jack explained. “Chief O’Connell is down there now, and he’s waiting for a whole lot of other policemen who are going to help him find out.”

  Katie’s eyes were troubled. She climbed up in Jack’s lap instead of her mother’s and took his face between her palms. “It’ll be OK, Jack. The bad men never catch us. Mommy’s too smart for them.”

  Mike O’Connell walked into the kitchen as those words left the child’s mouth. Beth knew she should have been nervous, but her brain and body were utterly depleted. The big man stood still in the entryway for a minute. He glanced at Jack before accepting a cup of coffee from Mrs. Harris and taking a seat at the table.

  She patted his broad shoulder as he glanced backward at her. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee for anyone who needs it.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Harris retreated from the kitchen. Jack met the chief’s gaze and stood, lifting Katie with him. “Come on, Ben. We’ll all go down and feed the horses.” They went out the back door, leaving Mike and Beth alone.

  Mike sipped his coffee, eying Beth over the rim. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK, then. Who are you really?”

  The police chief wasn’t going to beat around the bush, which was good. Beth had no energy for verbal sparring either. “My name is Elizabeth Baker.”

  Chief O’Connell’s red eyebrows shot up. “As in Congressman Baker?”

  “Yes.” Beth met the chief’s gaze straight on.

  “Let’s start with your statement about this morning and work our way back to your vanishing act.”

  Beth didn’t leave anything out. She’d already told her story to Jack and Wes. Each time the retelling seemed to get easier.

  The chief took notes in a small notebook. “Jack’s a good man, and he’s my friend. You’re not going to run out on him are you?”

  “If I was planning to run, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Beth summoned strength from deep within, strength she didn’t know she possessed, and looked Mike straight in the eye. She didn’t feel like the same woman who’d fainted out in the field. “I’ve gotten very good at disappearing.”

  The big cop sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I bet you have. Unless I find out any of this relates to my case, I’ll keep it quiet. But you need to understand that I can’t withhold information from the FBI.”

  Beth nodded.

  “Please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back. “

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “I can’t believe it was that easy.” Beth felt like all the air had been let out of her lungs. Sitting next to her on the small couch in the study, Jack placed a hand on her knee and squeezed.

  “I don’t know if easy is the word I’d use.” Jack’s obscenely expensive lawyer, Carlyle Hughes, picked a dog hair off his navy blue pinstripe suit and dropped it on the carpet. “When I met with him this morning, Congressman Baker adamantly denied your accusations. He claims to be devastated by the divorce request but has no desire to force you to remain married to him. Mind you, he didn’t look all that devastated, but it was only the two of us. Had there been a camera in the room, I’ve no doubt the congressman could have looked as broken up as he deemed necessary.” Carlyle steepled his manicured fingers. A gold Harvard Law School ring winked, and the light glinted off hair the color of polished silver.

  Beth was amazed at the security money could buy, like the high-powered attorney sitting across from her. Carlyle had been old friends with Danny O’Malley. If it hadn’t been for the personal referral, Beth would have thought of him as an old shark, predatory and cold.

  She summoned a smile. If Beth wanted to fight fire with fire, she needed Carlyle Hughes. Since Wes and Sean had been unable to unearth any dirt on Richard, she had only two options: to remain in hiding or confront her husband. She hadn’t taken Sean’s offer to “remove” the threat seriously.

  “Still. It doesn’t feel right.” This was good news, so why did she feel so vulnerable? “I didn’t expect him to give up this easily.”

  “Well, he didn’t just agree. There are conditions,” Carlyle said.

  Next to her, Jack tensed. “What kind of conditions?” He rose and crossed to the credenza. “Can I interest you in a scotch, Carlyle?”

  “It’s a bit early, but if it’s the thirty-year-old Macallan Danny stocked, then I can’t resist.”

  Jack flipped two tumblers then hesitated. The bottle hovered. His mouth tightened as he poured two fingers of amber liquid into only one glass and handed it to the lawyer.

  Carlyle sipped. “Excellent.” He set the glass on the end table and opened his portfolio. “Here’s the deal. If the congressman agrees to the divorce, withdraws his claim of Mrs. Baker’s mental instability, and removes his petition for guardianship of her children, he expects a signed liability waiver and confidentiality agreement. No appearances on Oprah. No memoirs on her married life. No Lifetime Network TV movie. Not a peep to anyone. Ever. And Mrs. Baker must agree to relate a plausible story to the press that will enhance the congressman’s political image.”

  “He wants to put a positive spin on this? Unbelievable.” Jack began to pace the small room, but Beth noticed, despite his anxiety, he did not head back to the credenza.

  In the leather wing chair, Carlyle crossed his legs. “Really, Jack, Mrs. Baker—”

  Beth interrupted. “Please don’t call me that. Beth will do.”

  “I think Mrs…. er…Beth should strongly consider the offer. She has no evidence from the time in question, while the congressman has medical reports and testimonies from numerous top-of-their-field doctors. She spent a week in a psychiatric ward after a documented overdose. Baker called an ambulance and arranged private care in one of the best medical facilities on the East Coast. Outwardly, it appears as if he’s done everything humanly possible for his wife. Filing charges against the congressman under these circumstances would be unwise. He’s fully prepared to pursue guardianship of your children. No judge or jury is going to believe the congressman orchestrated the entire event.”

  “It’s the truth.” Beth’s stomach turned over. She was going to have to choose between recovering her life and restoring her reputation, the latter of which could place her children in jeopardy. Not acceptable. Nothing was worth even the possibility of Richard getting custody of her kids.

  A brief flicker of desolation passed over Carlyle’s face. “The truth is only relevant if you can prove it.”

  And wasn’t that a sad fact of life?

  Unwilling to accept the limited choices, Beth’s mind whirled. “But what about all those physical and psychological evaluations last week? Don’t tell me I went through all that for nothing.” Although Quinn had set her up with a matronly internist with the bedside manner of a grandmother, letting Dr. Miller poke and prod her had been the very last thing she wanted to do. Wait. Check that. Letting the psychiatrist in on her own private hell had been far worse.

  Carlyle gave her a wry smile. “Those reports are the only reason you got an offer this good, believe me. At this point I believe the congressman simply wants to control the impact on his career. He’s been playing the devoted spouse a long time. His constituents would turn on him in a second if they thought they’d been lied to. Baker sees himself in the White House someday.”

  Beth couldn’t imagine being
free. What would it be like not to constantly look over her shoulder? To sign her kids up for school and join the PTA? Did it really matter what other people thought? She glanced over at Jack. His lips tightened in a thin line as he waited for her decision. She knew he’d support her no matter what she chose to do. The hell with it. Her image wasn’t that important. Jack’s opinion was the only one that mattered. “If he’ll leave us alone, I’ll sign whatever he wants.”

  “That extreme won’t be necessary. Baker may control the legal arena, but we still have media exposure on our side. Oprah, Jerry Springer, The View. Any one of those producers would sell his soul to the devil to expose the congressman. If he isn’t reasonable, you don’t sign the confidentiality agreement.” Carlyle rose, smoothed his trousers, and tugged on his French cuffs. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.”

  Beth didn’t trust her voice. She nodded.

  Beth followed as Jack walked the lawyer to the door. “Thanks, Carlyle.”

  “You and Beth have nothing to worry about.”

  God, was it true? It didn’t seem possible that it was over.

  Jack closed the door. Draping an arm over her shoulder, he led her to the kitchen. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

  It sure seemed that way, but Beth’s stomach wouldn’t settle. She supposed it was going to take some time to adjust to not being a fugitive.

  She filled the teakettle and turned on the gas burner. “Tea?”

  Jack sighed. “Sure.”

  Her heart swelled. She knew he’d much rather have a scotch, and that she was the reason he wasn’t indulging. The house was quiet. Mrs. Harris was playing bingo at the Methodist Church, and the children were in bed.

  As she pulled two mugs and the box of chamomile tea from the cabinet, Jack stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Leaning back against his hard chest, she absorbed his body heat. His heartbeat pulsed through her body.