For Love of Money

by Cathy Perkins

Holly figured that was probably their intention.

  Gwen slid her tote bag over her shoulder. “I think we should read something significant.”

  “Everybody send me a suggestion and I’ll route it to the group,” Holly offered. “We’ll read whatever gets the most votes.”

  Laurie cut off Gwen’s protest. “It’s the democratic approach.”

  Laurie and Holly strolled toward their cars. The narrow parking lot beside the library stayed full, the building crowded with after-work browsers and teenagers who spent more time flirting than doing homework.

  “You’re not serious about the blow-up doll, are you?” Holly asked.

  “Of course, I am. Herman’s always willing to indulge any fantasy and he doesn’t hog the covers or snore.”

  Gwen’s ancient brown Toyota passed and they waved.

  “Don’t try to convince me you don’t have a ‘friend’,” Laurie said. “Anybody who watched Sex and the City learned the joys of a Rabbit.”

  “I’d rather have the real deal. Can Herman keep you warm on a long, winter night?”

  “The optional, auxiliary battery pack powers a mini-heater.”

  Holly stepped off the sidewalk, snickering. “Okay, stop. I surrender.”

  “Does that ‘real deal’ comment mean you decided to go out with JC?”

  “Oh, please.”

  An engine cranked in the parking lot across the street. Holly glanced at the darkened building. Someone must’ve worked late. She was glad for once it wasn’t her.

  “Why are you being so defensive? JC’s single, employed, sexy, and he’s into you.”

  “You can’t be serious. He’s cocky, arrogant, manipulative, and, and…”

  “He pushed your buttons, didn’t he?”

  Holly laughed as the ridiculousness of the situation hit her. “All the wrong ones. You know how I feel about egomaniacs.”

  “Now there’s a leap. Arrogant to egomaniac. Me thinks she doth protest too much.”

  Why was she putting up such a battle? She didn’t need a man to make her life complete, but she wanted one someday. Wanted a family, a life partner. She didn’t see Alex in that role, but JC had already had his shot and blown it. “Maybe I just attract the wrong kind of guy.”

  Laurie hitched her tote bag and resettled the load. “Well, if JC doesn’t turn your crank—which I totally don’t believe—there’s a guy in radiology.”

  She groaned. “Not another one.” The endless stream of incompatible men her friends pushed at her was probably why she’d started dating Alex in the first place.

  “Ron’s cute and he broke up with his girlfriend a month ago. That’s long enough he’s ready to go out without doing the ex-bashing thing. How about I ask him to go to Bookwalter’s with us on Saturday?”

  Holly cleared her throat. “I’d rather talk about Nicole.” She’d already told Laurie about the scene at lunch. “Do you think Tim’s really going to dump her?”

  “Based on what I saw Tuesday night, it would surprise me.”

  “Women like her make me feel inadequate,” Holly admitted. “Like I was absent the day they handed out the secret to female wiles and how to twist men around your little finger.”

  “She wasn’t always like that.” Laurie considered. “Or maybe she was. But anyway, she completely reinvented herself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The truck across the street reversed with a clash of gears, then idled, its engine thumping.

  “Find it, don’t grind it,” Laurie called, rolled her eyes at the truck. “Don’t you remember middle school?”

  “I was in California then.”

  “Oh, yeah. Anyway, Nicole transferred in as this stringy-haired blond kid. I think her dad worked construction and came to Richland looking for work. He took off and left them here. Her mom stayed drunk and they lived on welfare.”

  Holly stared at Laurie. “Brea said Nicole’s mother was an alcoholic. How’d Nicole pull off the transformation?”

  “Forget that dumb as a doornail routine. She’s smart as they come.”

  “I remember now. She acted like an airhead in high school but got straight A’s.”

  Laurie made a face. “Of course, she was screwing a couple of teachers and had most of the jocks buying her clothes and jewelry.”

  “I guess Tim’s enough older he didn’t know about all that.”

  Headlights illuminated the parking lot as the truck eased toward the cross street. Holly squinted at the sudden brightness. “Why isn’t she working? She’d be perfect in management at more companies than I can name.”

  “I think she likes being Tim’s wife and doing the charity organizing.”

  “She sure likes spending his money, but it seems like a waste of talent. If Walt was serious about Tim divorcing her, she might need to rethink that.”

  The truck bumped across the road and entered the library’s parking lot, accelerating as it cleared the entrance.

  “What an asshole,” Laurie said, watching it. “Don’t you hate people who cut the corner at red lights?”

  “Seriously.” The women edged closer to a parked Chevy SUV, giving the older truck room to pass.

  “That truck’s going too fast.” Laurie glared at the oncoming driver.

  And coming straight for them. Holy—

  “Look out!”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Something warm trickled into Holly’s eyes. A wide band of pain settled around her temples and tightened, throbbing into a headache. It pounded in time with the shriek of a car alarm.

  Laurie sat huddled against the bulk of the SUV. “My ankle,” she moaned.

  Holly rose on her hands and knees, and winced at the chorus of pain. She crawled gingerly across the narrow gap between the cars and peered at her friend’s foot.

  Oh, no.

  Two women appeared at the rear of the vehicles. “Are you okay?” one asked anxiously.

  “Call 911,” Holly said, her attention fixed on Laurie’s ankle. The Chevy’s rear tire had her foot pinned.

  Crap, what should she do now? Her first-aid course hadn’t covered anything this serious. “We can try to shift the car and get your foot out, but maybe we should wait for the ambulance.”

  Holly glanced at the older of the two women. Clad in elastic-waist jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked like somebody’s mom. Cell phone pressed to her ear, the woman was focused on whatever the 911 operator was saying.

  “Tell them to hurry,” Holly said.

  “They said don’t try to move the car.” The woman lowered her phone. “You’re bleeding, by the way.”

  Holly touched her forehead and came away with shaky, bloody fingers.

  “He could’ve killed you,” the other woman, the younger of the pair, sputtered. “He must have been drunk or something.”

  Holly looked at her blood-splattered sweater and wondered if she could use it as a bandage. A warm rivulet trickled down her cheek. She dabbed at it with her forearm.

  The pulsing wail of a siren began. She figured a Pasco cop was blasting up Lewis Street. The cavalry to the rescue. The two women had vanished, probably headed to the entrance to flag him down. “Another minute,” she told Laurie. “Hang in there.”

  “You don’t think he meant to hit us, do you? The guy driving the truck.”

  “Of course not.” Denial immediately kicked in.

  Holly stared at Laurie’s foot, unable to deny the obvious. What had she stirred up? Or rather who had she stirred up? Marcy’s killer? Frank? Creepy Security Guy?

  Laurie grimaced and maneuvered onto her back. Her leg twisted at an awkward angle. “He probably meant to bump you off. You are the only witness to Marcy’s murder.”

  “Nice try, but I didn’t witness anything. No, this is one of your multiple admirers, desperate for your attention.” Laurie couldn’t have gotten hurt because of her.

  “I can think of better ways to attract me,” Laurie mumbled. “Chocolate. Jewelry. Signal flags.”

&nbs
p; The older woman came back, arms laden. “I had some paper towels in my car.” She lifted her hands. “And a blanket. We should keep your friend warm.”

  “Thanks.” Holly gave her a grateful smile. Definitely someone’s mom. In a good way.

  She tucked the blanket around Laurie, and then pressed a paper towel against her own aching head. Now that the immediate crisis was past, the headache was growing to titanic portions.

  More people crowded around the damaged cars. The entire library must’ve emptied into the parking lot, the patrons drawn like coyotes to the carnage.

  “Did anybody see which way the truck went?” Holly called.

  A babble of voices answered. She grimaced, wishing she’d stayed quiet.

  Spinning blue lights splashed across the crowd and a patrol car bumped into the parking lot. The siren drilled into her skull. About the time she thought she might lose it, the officer killed the racket.

  The policeman approached the wrecked cars. He swiveled his head between her and Laurie, then stooped to check on Laurie’s foot. “An ambulance is on its way, ma’am.”

  Holly sagged against the Pathfinder adjacent to the Chevy SUV. Of all the people on the police force, why did the responding officer have to be the Shrimp? She fervently hoped he didn’t remember her—or the grief she’d given him about Lillian.

  Why was a Franklin County deputy even there instead of a Pasco city cop?

  His assessment of Laurie complete, he turned and gave Holly a calculating look, clearly trying to place her. A moment later he rose, pivoting on his heel without a word to her. Shrimp—what was his name?—turned to the circle of curious bystanders. “Hit and run. Anybody get a description of the vehicle or the driver?”

  The woman who’d called 911 stepped forward. “That truck tried to hit them.” Indignation fizzed around her like a Fourth of July sparkler. “He drove right at them.”

  “Can you tell me the license plate? The kind of truck?”

  “It was old and dirty. The light over the tag was burned out, but it had a Washington tag. It looked like A-2-4-something.”

  “The truck has a huge dent in the front fender,” her friend added. “How hard could it be to find?”

  “Did you see the driver?”

  The younger woman shook her head, then pointed at the adjacent row of cars. “I was over there. I heard it going too fast and turned around just in time to see him aim at those two women. Are you sure they’re okay?” She peered around the officer.

  Slumped against the Nissan’s door, Holly watched Shrimp try to extract anything useful from the witness. Several Pasco patrol cars had arrived by then, and other officers talked with various people around the parking lot, but they were too far away for Holly to hear the conversations.

  She wished the ambulance would hurry. Laurie had given up any pretense at banter. Eyes closed, moaning periodically, she clutched at Holly’s hand. She hoped Laurie had only twisted her ankle instead of crushing it.

  The gash on Holly’s own head burned. She eased the paper towels aside and felt another trickle roll down her cheek. Damn.

  Everything hurt. Her head pounded with a crashing headache. Her left hand and knee had a major case of road rash. She was going to have some nasty bruises, and to add insult to injury her favorite jeans now sported a huge tear, and blood splattered her sweater.

  Another car, a Crown Vic that screamed I’m-an-Unmarked-Police-Car, stopped beside the Pasco cruisers. She recognized the figure behind the wheel.

  Terrific. A complete disaster.

  …

  JC strolled over to join the group assembled beside the damaged cars. “Hello, Holly.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Gimme-a-break, no-verbal-warfare-tonight threaded her resigned question.

  Without answering, he studied the bashed-in fenders, clicked his tongue, and shook his head.

  Why did he take such a perverse pleasure in making her feel guilty? “I’m the victim here, not the driver. Vic-tim,” she reminded him.

  He crouched beside her. His lips twitched into a smile. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “You know, you look real sexy with your hair all messed up and your eyes kinda droopy.”

  Outrage warred with confusion. “You can’t say stuff like that when you’re working. It’s sexual harassment.”

  He sat back on his heels. “Who says I’m working?”

  “What, you show up at every hit-and-run accident scene?”

  “Only when there’s a pretty woman involved.” His smile deepened into a full-on grin and those blasted dimples popped into view. Damn, most people looked cute with dimples. JC’s appeared and the room temperature rose ten degrees.

  Trying to slow her pitty-pat heartbeat, which wasn’t helping the pounding in her head, she gathered her tattered dignity. She ignored his sexist remarks and demanded, “If you’re not working, why are you here?”

  “I guess that worked,” he said.

  And damned if he didn’t stand up, turn around, and stroll over to where the squad sergeant talked with a guy in street clothes that she hadn’t seen arrive.

  She stared after him. Was that supposed to be a distraction? A come-on? Or was he trying to make her mad? Whatever it was supposed to be, she sorta wished he’d come back.

  “Forget about the blind date,” Laurie said. “Admit it. You should start seeing JC.”

  “Hush. You’re delirious.”

  Shrimp squatted in front of her. His nametag read Dickerman, the name she now remembered hearing JC call the smaller man.

  “I’ll take your preliminary statement. Detective Patton will talk to you at the hospital.”

  Her head throbbed and she wished Dickerman would speak more quietly. “I don’t think I need to go to the hospital, but Laurie should. Do you know when the ambulance will get here?”

  Laurie’s face was white and if her grip got any tighter, Holly was going to have to go to the hospital for a mangled hand.

  Dickerman studied Laurie’s pale, sweating face. “I’ll check.”

  He crossed to a patrol car and picked up the radio.

  Holly scanned the other groups, looking for JC. He stood beside the patrol sergeant, watching her. He didn’t break the contact when their eyes met. The intimacy of his gaze flustered her, and she turned back to Laurie. “Any minute now.”

  Dickerman returned. “Ambulance is in bound. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Maybe he didn’t remember her. She felt a flash of relief. She hadn’t been a total bitch, but she hadn’t been very nice to him. “We were walking to our cars and heard the truck start. It was parked beside that building.”

  She pointed across the street. “Do you think he’d been drinking?” Maybe that was why the vehicle had been parked behind the darkened business.

  He ignored her question in that irritating way all cops apparently did. “What happened after you heard it start up?”

  “When it came into this parking lot, it was going too fast. We turned around and saw he was drifting across the aisle—that’s why I thought maybe he’d been drinking—and I realized he was going to hit us if we didn’t move.”

  “Where were you, exactly?”

  “Behind this car.” She pointed at the bashed-in Chevy SUV. “I pushed Laurie between the cars and dove after her.”

  The officer looked at the bloody mass of paper towels Holly was holding to her own temple. “Did he hit you?”

  “I think I hit the Pathfinder’s mirror.” She pointed at the adjacent vehicle.

  Dickerman stood and played his flashlight over the mirror. “Yeah. There’s blood here.”

  An ambulance rolled into the parking lot and added its flashing lights to the chaos. A competent-looking man and woman jumped out. The EMTs quickly examined Holly and Laurie, then concentrated on Laurie’s ankle.

  Holly shifted her position, trying to move out of the way. Her scraped hands protested, and her knee announced it was most unhappy with the one-point landing she’d ma
de on it. None of it was fatal, she reminded herself. Just damned uncomfortable. She pushed; the pavement ground into her raw palm. “Ouch. Shit.”

  Warm hands grasped her arms and lifted her to her feet.

  JC stood in front of her. He drew her away from the cars, giving the paramedics room to deal with Laurie and maneuver a stretcher. They’d connected some kind of jack to the SUV, probably to lift it off Laurie’s foot.

  JC stared at Holly’s forehead and then made a slow assessment of the rest of her injuries, ending by raising her hands for inspection. “You were lucky.”

  She tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound idiotic. JC was standing too close to her, but his warm bulk felt comforting. Nearly getting run over apparently threw intelligence and common sense to the wind. Her hands trembled and the what-ifs were lining up in her head, clamoring for attention. What if she’d been slower to react? What if the SUV had shifted a few inches more and landed on Laurie’s body instead of her foot? What if—

  JC slid a hand all the way up her arm to her shoulder and then back down to her elbow. He left it there, gently tugging her nearer. The urge to snuggle into his chest was nearly irresistible. His presence made her feel safe and protected. To her surprise, just his being there made her feel better.

  With a sigh, she gave in to temptation and leaned into his shoulder.

  Just for a second.

  His arms wrapped around her. She didn’t pull away. His hand traced a reassuring pattern against her back. Neither spoke.

  She closed her eyes. Some of the tension seeped away. Standing clasped in JC’s arms felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her head fit precisely into the hollow of his shoulder. He knew just how to rub her back, his touch confident and comforting. She shifted and buried her nose in the folds of his jacket. His scent triggered memories and instincts. Of their own accord, her hands rose and slid around his waist. His arms tightened and his chin touched the crown of her head in a gesture that was achingly familiar.

  Behind them, the EMTs lifted Laurie onto a stretcher and wheeled it to the ambulance, then the female medic returned. JC’s arms retracted and he moved away. Holly immediately missed the warmth and security.

  The EMT ran practiced hands over Holly, checking for injuries. She flashed a penlight into her eyes and her headache exploded. Eyes closed, she collapsed against the Pathfinder and let the impersonal metal support her instead of JC’s warm arms.