You Can Run: A heart gripping, fast paced thriller (7th Street Crew Book 2)

by Willow Rose

  Jackie as in Jack?

  “Sorry. I’ve never heard of you…Jackie. What did you want with my husband?” I ask. It’s technically not a lie, since Joey and I are only separated.

  She looks baffled. “Husband? I…I didn’t know…he told me he was separated.” She takes a few steps backwards. “I’m…I am so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, you should be.” I say, and slam the door behind me. The noise wakes up Joey. He blinks his eyes and looks at me.

  “Hey. You’re back. I missed you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  January 2016

  “What’s the matter?”

  Joey looks at me. I realize I am shaking. I can’t speak. I can’t shape the words or push them across my lips. Yet there is so much I want to say. So much I need to get out of me. So many emotions, so much anger.

  I can’t believe he did this to me again. I can’t believe I let him!

  “What’s going on, Mary? Why…what’s…” Joey jumps up from the couch while I sink to the floor, slowly sliding my back against the door. I am staring at him, my mouth open, my heart pounding.

  “Did something happen at Chloe’s?” he asks, and kneels in front of me. “Talk to me, Mary.”

  I stare into his eyes. I want to cry, but I can’t. I want to scream. I want to yell at him, but nothing happens. I feel so lost. So betrayed.

  “Mary! You’re scaring me,” he says. “What happened?”

  Do I even bother talking to him? Do I even want to hear him explain himself? I am fed up with excuses. I am fed up with trying to understand. Yet I do it. Yet I ask him, “Who’s Jackie?”

  As her name leave my lips, Joey’s face changes. The corner of his mouth droops. The air is still for several seconds before he finally speaks again. Rage is swelling inside my chest. Joey pulls away. His hand touches his face.

  He’s trying to come up with an excuse. Wondering how to tell me, to say this gently and not make me mad. To not lose me. Doesn’t he realize it’s too late?

  “I …” he says.

  “You know what? I really don’t want to know,” I say, and get up on my feet. I feel slain, conquered, but I haven’t lost everything. I still have my dignity. And my son. I don’t have to keep living like this.

  “But …”

  “I don’t need any more excuses, Joey. I don’t need explanations. I needed to be able to trust you again, but clearly, that was a mistake.”

  He grabs my arm and forces me to look at him. “She is no one, Mary. I promise you.”

  “No one doesn’t come knocking on your door at midnight, Joey,” I say.

  He exhales. I can tell he is struggling to find the right words. He’s afraid of pushing me further away, of losing me. He’s right. At this point, there pretty much isn’t anything he can say.

  “You have to believe me, Mary. I only saw her for a little while, when you were still in New York. You threw me out. We were separated, Mary.”

  “Oh, my God,” I say and pull my arm out of his grip. Finally, I lose it. “Do you even listen to yourself? You know who you sound like? Do you? You sound like Ross! We were on a break? Is that the excuse you’re going to come up with?”

  “What’s wrong with that? You threw me out. I found comfort with Jackie. She was nice.”

  “Nice? You destroy your family over nice?”

  Joey points his finger at me. “Hey. You were in New York. We were separated. You said you wanted a divorce. Yes, I saw another girl for a few weeks, but it ended as soon as you and Salter came down here.”

  “You ended it? What about all the texts, then?”

  Joey sighs. He is panting in agitation. “She wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t get her to stop texting me, all right? She wanted to see me and I told her not to come. I don’t know why she would be so stupid as to come here in the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t believe you. You even lied about it when I asked. I just don’t understand why you would do this to me again. After all we have been through, Joey.”

  He grabs both my shoulders and turns me to look at him. His eyes are filled with tears. “Believe me. I want this. I want us, Mary. I am not losing you again. I can’t lose you and Salter once again.”

  “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you crawled into bed with the first hooker that came along,” I say, and pull away from him. I walk to the bedroom and open the door. I don’t look back at Joey before I walk in. I don’t want to see his face.

  “That’s not fair and you know it,” he yells, just as I close the door with a loud bang.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  January 2016

  I carry Salter into my bed and snuggle with him and all the animals all night, but don’t get any sleep at all. When the alarm goes off, Salter opens his eyes and looks into mine. I can’t think of anything more beautiful to wake up to.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  I kiss his forehead. “I’m just a little sad, sweetie. It’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it. Now let’s get you to school, alright?”

  “Is it Dad?”

  I sigh. “We had a fight.”

  Salter’s eyes turn hard. I don’t like to see that in him. I know he feels protective of me ever since we lived alone for four months. I know I have to be careful. I want him to love his dad, no matter what happens.

  “Don’t worry about it, okay?” I say. “We’re grown-ups. We’ll do the worrying and the problem solving. You focus on getting to school on time.”

  He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t agree. He wants to solve everything. I know he does, but he can’t. He can’t fix this, no matter how bad he wants to.

  We get out of bed and get dressed. I prepare his breakfast, while wondering where Joey is. I thought he would be sleeping on the couch in the living room, but he is not there. I am glad I don’t have to face him, but still I wonder if he went to her place instead. The thought makes me miserable.

  Am I that easily replaced?

  I make Salter’s lunch and hand him his lunchbox when he is ready to leave. I kiss his forehead and wave at him as he walks to the bus. My stomach hurts from worry that he’ll be sad all day. He is so happy that his mom and dad are back together again. To have to take that away from him again is just simply devastating.

  When he is gone, I make myself some coffee and make a tray for my dad with coffee and breakfast. I walk into his room. He’s already awake.

  I put the tray down and force a smile. “Ah, don’t give me that,” he says.

  “What?”

  “I heard you…last night.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s going on…with you two?” he asks, while I feed him scrambled eggs. He spits some of it out when he talks, and I wipe it off his bed.

  “I don’t know, Dad.”

  “You’re not splitting up again…are you?”

  “I said I don’t know.”

  “You’re being…way too hard on him. Always have, Mary.” My dad is agitated and has to take a break before he can continue. His breath is ragged. “You…expect too much…He tries…I have seen him. He tries…his best. Nobody is perfect.”

  “He slept with someone else, Dad. Not just once,” I say.

  My dad falls silent for a few seconds. I can tell he is wondering what to say. “Well, maybe there’s an…explanation.”

  “Really, Dad?”

  “I like…the kid. Look at…look what he did. He took all of us in and took…care of me. He put up that…TV and…finally I have…something to do while lying around here. He cares, Mary. Not many…men do.”

  I know he is right. Joey is a sweet guy and a great father. I truly love him. I think I have loved him since we went to preschool together. I can’t remember not loving him. But is it enough? I need more than that. I refuse to be one of those women that simply close their eyes to their husband’s constant cheating because they don’t have the strength to deal with it. Or to make the unpopular decision. I have to be able to trust him, and so far, he has
n’t earned my trust.

  “All I am asking…is that you give him…a chance, Mary. Don’t…throw away what you have…because of one…or two…little mistakes. You have no idea…how lucky you are to have a man…love you like that.” My dad looks at me intensely while catching his breath again. “I miss…Laura…every hour of the day…but she never loved me…not in the same way. There is no doubt…Joey…loves you.”

  “I won’t, Dad. I promise,” I say and kiss his forehead. I don’t want to talk more about it with him. I turn on the TV and find something he wants to watch before I walk to the door. “You have physical therapy at three today,” I say before I leave.

  In the kitchen, I put down the tray when my phone starts to vibrate on the counter. I am certain it is Joey and pick it up. It’s a text. It’s not from Joey. It’s from Marcia.

  MEET ME BY OUR OLD SECRET SURFSPOT ASAP. COME ALONE.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  January 2016

  I text Marcia back and ask her what’s going on. What about the AA meeting? She doesn’t answer back, so I try to call her, but her phone is shut off and I leave a voicemail. I can’t help but get angry with her. This is not the time for her to go surfing. She’s supposed to be working on herself and going to the meetings. Does she think I’ll just forget about it? This is odd, even for Marcia. I wonder if she has fallen off the wagon already or if this is just her way of trying to get out of going to the meeting. I won’t let her. I am determined to help her, even if I myself am I mess. I am not giving up.

  I decide to go to our old spot and convince her to go to the meeting with me instead of surfing. When I open the door to go to the car, I spot someone coming up the driveway. I recognize him immediately. The long legs, the brown waving hair, the gorgeous blue eyes. But there is something different about him today. Something desperate and bleak that I haven’t seen in him before.

  “Harry?” I say. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mary. Finally,” he says with a deep sigh. “I’ve tried to get ahold of you all morning. But I don’t have your number, and all the kids knew was where you lived. I had to get them out of the house before I could get down here…”

  “I don’t understand. What’s wrong, Harry? Has something happened?” I ask, the feeling of dread quickly spreading throughout my body.

  What is going on here?

  “It’s Marcia,” he says.

  Uh-oh!

  “Marcia? What happened?”

  A series of images run through my mind. Marcia driving drunk on her bike to our secret surf spot with her board under her arm. Marcia being hit by a car and lying on the asphalt. Is she dead? Is she unconscious? Is she alive?

  Harry looks at me and shakes his head. It’s bad. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he has no idea how to tell me.

  “Last night…I have no idea how it could have happened. I was upstairs in my bed, sleeping, when I heard the shot.”

  The shot? Oh, my God, it’s even worse than I thought.

  “Marcia was shot?”

  Harry shakes his head. “No. Not her.”

  “Then who? Who?”

  “Mark. Mark was shot. He came home late, as he often does, if he comes home at all. As far as I know, she must have thought he was an intruder or something. When I came down, she was gone; Mark was lying on the floor of the living room, bleeding heavily.”

  I stop breathing. Everything inside of me is standing still. The words coming out of Harry’s mouth are so unreal, so distant, so strange I can’t take it.

  “Marcia shot her son?” I ask.

  “Yes. And then she just took off.”

  “How is he? Is he…?”

  “He’s alive. The bullet went into his shoulder. I called for an ambulance and he was taken to Holmes Regional. I stayed with the other children and sat with them till they fell asleep again. I called this morning, and he’s still in intensive, but they expect him to make it. His dad came out here from Orlando and is with him now.”

  I stare at Harry, slowly shaking my head. Suddenly, I feel dizzy. It’s overpowering me and I have no control of my body anymore. Harry grabs me just as I am about to fall and helps me get inside where I sit on a chair.

  “Let me get you some water,” he says.

  I still feel like the world is spinning and I can’t breathe. It’s just too much right now. The whole thing.

  “Here, drink this,” he says, and hands me the glass. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  I drink and close my eyes. It does make me feel better, but now I feel like I have to throw up. I bend down, but it doesn’t happen. I raise my head again and look into Harry’s eyes.

  “Feeling better?”

  “A little,” I say. I finish the water.

  “I’m glad that you were home,” Harry says. “I had no idea who else to come to. I have only been in the house for a short while.”

  “The police,” I say.

  “They’re looking for her. Mark told them she did it in self-defense. That he startled her and that she thought he was an intruder. I don’t know what they’ll do, but the kids were picked up by social services, and they’re going to stay with their father in Orlando. It’s bad, Mary. I am afraid you’re all Marcia has right now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  January 2016

  Tears are streaming across my face as I drive towards Sebastian Inlet. I chose not to tell Harry about the text from Marcia. I want to meet with her myself and hear what she has to say. He doesn’t have to be involved.

  Our old secret surf spot where we used to meet and surf is reached by a small trail through the bushes that leads to a desolated beach known among surfers as The Spanish House. We used to go there when waves were small at Cocoa Beach, especially in the summertime. Down here, they would always be breaking beautifully, and the water is so clear you could often see turtles and dolphins underneath you as you surfed.

  It used to be my favorite place to go, but not today. Today, I walk across the trail feeling awful, feeling sick to my stomach.

  What do I say to her? How do I deal with this? Do I tell her to turn herself in? Do I tell her to run away? God, please give me the strength and wisdom to say the right things, to do what is right.

  When I reach the beach, I am all alone. I spot someone sitting in a chair about half a mile away, but that’s not her, I think.

  She’s not here.

  I growl, annoyed, and turn to walk back through the bushes, when I hear a small voice calling my name. I look to the side and spot Marcia. She is sitting underneath a bush, crumpled up, her legs under her chin. She is shaking. Her eyes are flickering from side to side.

  “Marcia.”

  I walk closer and kneel in front of her. I try to make eye contact, but without success. “Marcia. Look at me.”

  But she doesn’t. Her eyes are constantly moving, her head shaking. “They’re coming, Mary. I know they are. I’m not going with them. I won’t let them get me. I’d rather die.”

  “Who? The police?” I ask.

  Finally, she looks at me. I don’t recognize the Marcia I know in those eyes.

  “All of them. They are all in on it, Mary. Especially that man.”

  “What man? Harry?”

  “Yes. Yes. Him. I don’t trust him. He keeps me awake when he walks around up there all night. I think…Mary, I think he killed that woman.”

  “What woman?”

  “The one they pulled out of the river.”

  “Why do you think Harry had anything to do with that?” I ask.

  “Because of the pictures, Mary. He has her picture and all the articles in his room. He thinks I didn’t see it, but I did. I think he’s a killer, and now he’s coming after me. He’s going to kill all of us.”

  I remove a lock of hair from Marcia’s face. I don’t smell alcohol on her breath. When I look into her eyes, she doesn’t seem intoxicated. Just…just like she is very far away. Too far away for me to reach her. It frightens me.

  “W
hat’s going on with you, Marcia?” I ask. “Do you even know what happened last night?”

  “Last night, we went to Beef O’ Brady’s. Kids eat free on Tuesdays. I had a steak burrito.”

  I cup my mouth and press back tears. I have no idea what to say to her. “You need help,” I whisper under my breath.

  Marcia holds both her hands to her head and closes her eyes like she is in pain. “Stop it,” she says. “Stop screaming!” Then she grabs my arm and pulls me closer. “Do you hear it too? Do you hear them screaming, Mary?”

  “Who is screaming, Marcia? You’re scaring me.”

  “The kids. They’re crying. They’re scared.”

  “What kids?”

  “The kids!”

  I get a terrifying thought. I don’t want to think it, but I do. “Why are they scared, Marcia? Who is hurting them?” I ask, petrified of the answer.

  And then it comes.

  “I think…I think it is me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  January 2016

  “Who is it? Who are they?” I ask. I don’t want to hear this, I really don’t, but I feel I have to ask. I have to know what is going on with her.

  “Are they your children, Marcia?”

  She shakes her head.

  “There’s a girl and a boy. They’re on the floor. The boy had glasses on, now they are on the floor next to him. Broken. He’s chubby. Has a birthmark on his cheek.”

  “And the girl?”

  Marcia thinks about it for a little while before speaking. “She has long black hair. She’s pretty. I think she is dead, but I’m not sure. She’s wearing her PJs. They both are. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star…there are stars on them. On hers. They’re black. His say Star Wars on the front.”

  “And the grown-ups?” I ask, my voice shivering. “Where are the grown-ups?”

  “They’re right next to the children. On the floor too. The mother’s eyes aren’t closed. They don’t blink. They don’t move. The mother has a white shirt, but something is wrong with it. It’s red in the front. There’s a hole in it. There’s a hole in her.”