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

by Willow Rose

  Marcia feels great unease spread as she tries to remember where she is and how she got there. But there is nothing but a big black gap in her mind. No matter how hard she tries, she simply can’t put the puzzle pieces together.

  She wonders where her bike is, since she usually never goes anywhere without it. Not since they took her driver’s license.

  When was that again? Last month?

  Marcia shakes her head and sits back on the ground. Lightning strikes often outside now and keeps lighting up the room. She picks up the gun and feels how heavy it is in her hand. She knows how to shoot it. She remembers how her father taught her as a child. He would take her to the woods and help her shoot cans. The memory makes her smile. She loved her father. He was the best thing about her childhood. Until the day he vanished when Marcia was eleven. Her mom told her he was hit by a car, but later in life, she learned that he had jumped out of the top of a building, convinced he could fly like a bird. She had so many fond memories of him. Some days, they would dress up like ladies and skip to the grocery store, singing the song from The Sound of Music, “My Favorite Things,” wearing wigs and hats, and then on other days he would sit in the corner of the living room in the darkness and stare at the wall for hours, mumbling. Marcia used to think it was her fault when he had those days. That she wasn’t good enough. She still wondered if it was her fault that he jumped off that building. Maybe there was something she could have done differently.

  Marcia puts the gun back in her pants, then looks around as the next lightning strikes outside and lights up the driveway. There is something awfully familiar about this driveway and the house. Has she been here before? Does she know who lives here? It doesn’t look like the house of any of her friends. It’s way too expensive, and the neighborhood is too nice. The cars are on the luxurious side as well. None of her friends live like this. Not even Sandra, who is the richest person she knows. Sandra is more the type that saves all her money. She doesn’t spend it on big houses and cars. That’s not her style.

  Marcia sighs, while wondering where the heck she is and how to get back to her kids.

  They must be worried. Poor babies. Maybe I can take a taxi back once the storm has passed?

  She realizes she has no money as she goes through her wallet. She needs money to get home.

  Maybe these people have some lying around the house? They’ll probably not even notice it if it’s gone.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  January 2016

  I wake up with a start. I look to my side and see Salter in the bed next to me. He looks like an angel. Joey is sleeping on the couch in the living room for now. When I got back the night before, Salter was already in bed, and it was very awkward between Joey and me. I spoke as little as possible with him, basically just told him we hadn’t found Marcia and that we would be looking again tomorrow, then went to the bedroom and climbed into bed, hoping that Joey would know that I didn’t want him in the bedroom. I couldn’t fall asleep lying all alone, so I ended up carrying Salter into my bed with me.

  Outside the window, the storm is raging. I look at it while thinking about Marcia. I so hope she has managed to find shelter somewhere.

  “Where are you, Marcia?” I mumble, while looking out at the storm. It’s like Niagara Falls out there. I wonder if the roof of Joey’s small house will hold through it. Then I wonder about the construction site where they’re building my dad’s house. I hope it’ll make it through the storm as well.

  I look at the clock. It’s only five in the morning. I still have an hour and a half before I have to get up and get Salter to school. But I can’t sleep anymore. I am too worried about Marcia being out there all alone.

  Then I realize something.

  I have a fan base. I have followers that read what I write. They helped me with my brother. Maybe they can help me with Marcia as well?

  I jump out of bed and walk to the computer and turn it on. Then I start writing. I write a post about Marcia, about how much I love her, but also about how we believe she is very sick and in need of help. I tell them that she was last seen in Sebastian Inlet on the beach, but we have no idea how she got there, or where she could be now. Then I find a picture on my phone of Marcia that I attach to the post and press send.

  I know it won’t go viral, and I have no idea how many of my followers are from this area, but it’s worth a shot.

  As soon as it is done, I go back to bed, and close my eyes for what feels like just one second before the alarm goes off. Snowflake jumps up on the bed and starts to lick Salter on the face like he always does in the morning.

  “Hey. Good morning,” Salter says with sleep in his eyes, then pets the dog while laughing, because it tickles when the dog licks him.

  I wonder when I should tell him that we won’t be living with his dad once Grandpa’s house is done. How do you tell your child that his parents messed up again? Even if I blame mostly Joey, I can’t help feeling guilty myself.

  While Salter gets dressed, I walk into the living room. Outside our door, Bonnie and Clyde are waiting, since I told them to stay with Joey for the night. I have a hard time coping with the pig’s smell at night. They attack Snowflake and me as soon as I open the door. Well, mostly Snowflake, since he is by far their favorite. The animals run around sniffing each other like they haven’t seen each other in months. Even Bonnie imitates the dogs and sniffs Snowflake’s behind. It’s quite the sight.

  Joey is still asleep on the couch, so I take all the animals into the yard so they can do their business, then walk to the kitchen and make breakfast for my son. Joey wakes up and looks at me from the couch.

  “You have no idea how much it kills my back to sleep on this thing,” he says grumpily.

  I shrug, but don’t answer. I want to say a lot of things like you should have thought about that before you slept with someone else, again, or that’s what you get for cheating on me—again!

  But I don’t. I don’t want to fight anymore. And I especially don’t want to fight in front of Salter.

  “I have running club today,” Salter says, as he shovels in his cereal. “Someone has to pick me up at four.”

  “We will,” I say, without looking at Joey. I try to avoid him as much as possible, even though it is hard. I hand Salter his lunchbox. “Don’t worry.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, scrutinizing me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you and Dad been fighting? Why is he sleeping on the couch again?” he asks. I hear great worry in his little voice.

  I sigh. This is not the time to tell him, but I still don’t feel comfortable lying to my son.

  “We had a fight,” I say. “Let’s talk about it later today, all right? You’ll be late for your bus.”

  “Tell me, Mom.”

  “It’s a long story, Salter. We need to talk about it when we have more time to sit down and talk it over.”

  Salter’s face goes pale. “That bad, huh?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I say.

  “I knew you would blow it,” he says, and looks at me disappointedly. I can hardly breathe. Seeing him like this hurts too much.

  “Why can’t you two just figure it out?”

  “I…I…” I glance at Joey, who doesn’t look back at me. I can’t get myself to tell Salter what really happened. Not now. Not like this. I don’t want him to resent his father, the most important male figure in his life. I look at the clock on the microwave. “Salter, you’re late. You’ll miss your bus.”

  Salter bites his lip. I want to pull him close and hug him, tell him everything is going to be fine, but I can’t. I can’t give him what he so desperately wants.

  “Can I get a kiss?” I ask.

  “I’m going to be late for the bus,” he says, and leaves me hanging there while storming out the door.

  “He’s too old for that stuff,” Joey says, and walks into the kitchen.

  “Maybe,” I say. “But I have to try.”

  “Why? You’r
e babying him. All the other kids are going to laugh at him,” Joey says angrily.

  “Because his mother tries to kiss him? I think he’ll survive.”

  Joey scoffs loudly. “You’re smothering him. I’m sick of it. The boy needs to grow up and be a man.”

  He pours himself a cup of coffee.

  “Yeah, because you’re such a great role model,” I say sarcastically.

  He looks at me indignantly. “Why is it you get to make all the decisions, huh? You run all of our lives. You decide what he wears, what school he goes to, what he eats, and what activities he goes to. Heck, you even decide if we are to be a family or not. When is it my turn? When do I get to make decisions around here?”

  I grab my cup and pour some coffee in it. I look at him. “When you start acting like a real man.”

  With that, I leave him and go back to the bedroom and my laptop. I feel like crying as I sit down, but I don’t. I am too upset, too angry with him and his behavior. I open the lid of the laptop and check my emails. I have received one new one since this morning. I immediately forget all about Joey when I read it.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  August 2006

  Daniel is nervous. He is looking at his siblings and his mother, who seems to be getting weaker and weaker every day that passes. They are waiting outside Kristin Martin’s office. She is the one who called them up and asked them to come.

  “This better not be about that moving out business again,” their mother says. “I told her I am not going to allow it to happen.”

  “Maybe it’s good news,” Daniel says. “Maybe Peter learned something new and she wants to show us.”

  Daniel is afraid the whole family is starting to resent him for bringing Kristin into Peter’s life. He’s scared they’ll take it all away and make Peter nothing but a vegetable again. So far, Daniel hasn’t agreed to let Peter stop seeing Kristin, no matter how much his siblings and mother tell him they think it should stop. He is fighting for his brother. He still believes in this treatment. He still believes his brother speaks to them, even though it is with Kristin’s help. He refuses to believe otherwise.

  The door to the office opens and Kristin appears in the doorway. She looks stunning, Daniel thinks. Riveting even. Daniel refuses to believe she is as manipulative as his family does.

  “Come on in,” she says with a wide smile.

  They get up and walk inside. Daniel helps his old mother, who struggles to walk these days. Inside the office, Peter is waiting for them. He is sitting in his wheelchair, his head bent to his chest, his hands knotted in fists. He groans when he sees all of them, making the chirping noises they have come to know as excitement.

  “Sit down,” Kristin says, and closes the door behind her.

  Daniel sits next to his mother on the leather couch. His older sister is next to him; the other siblings find chairs to sit in. Their oldest brother decides to stand. Kristin walks up to Peter and sits next to him. She looks at all of them. Daniel can sense that she is nervous. It makes him uncomfortable.

  “First of all, Peter and I would like to thank you all for taking the time to come in today. I know you all have busy lives and families to take care of.”

  “Why are we here?” their mother says.

  “I am getting to that,” Kristin says. “As you all know, Peter and I have been working together for almost a year now, and it has been quite fruitful. Within a short time of my treatment beginning, he was suddenly able to communicate with the outside world for the first time in twenty-five years. It is quite an accomplishment for someone like Peter. I realized quickly that he was a very smart young man, and he has a lot to tell the world. As you know, he has been taking classes at the university with me, and enjoyed it immensely. He has grown and become a man. It is time we start treating him like it.”

  “If this is about him moving into his own place again, then you can forget it,” their oldest brother says. “There is no way he can handle that.”

  “I realize that it has been hard for you all to accept the fact that Peter now has wants and wishes for his own life, but be that as it may, we have chosen to respect your concerns. Together, we have found a solution we believe will be good for all parties,” Kristin says.

  “And what is that?” their sister asks.

  Kristin clears her throat. “That he moves in with me.”

  “What?” their oldest brother yells.

  “Never!” their mother says.

  Daniel doesn’t speak. He simply stares at Peter, who doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t even look at them while they’re talking. He is biting his fingers, and Daniel knows it’s going to leave sores that will need treatment.

  “Now, now, hear me out!” Kristin says, and manages to calm them all down. “Before you rip my head off, I have something else to tell you.” She glances at Peter, then reaches out to grab his hand in hers. It seems to Daniel that she is forcing it, holding on to it really tight so it will stay still. She looks back at them and looks their mother directly in the eyes when she says the words that are going to change everything.

  “The thing is…we’re in love.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  January 2016

  “I need your help.”

  Harry looks at me with that mischievous smile of his. He is standing in the doorway of Marcia’s house. He is wearing only shorts. No shirt. I try not to stare at the six-pack he has going on there. The storm has passed and it has stopped raining.

  “I called Sandra, but she has a doctor’s appointment today; Chloe has been up all night and needs to sleep; the boys are all at work, so that just leaves me with you. I don’t want to go alone,” I say, trying desperately to hide the fact that I really wanted to spend time with him.

  “All right, then,” he says and steps aside. “Come on in. I’ll get dressed.”

  If you have to.

  “Okay. I’ll just wait here.”

  I sit on Marcia’s couch, while Harry walks upstairs. As he is almost up, I turn and look at his behind. I know I am bad, but I can’t help myself. He is really something. I am beginning to think I should just get it over with and sleep with him. But I don’t know if the only reason I want to is because I want to hurt Joey back. That would make me a terrible person, I think. Maybe. Maybe I totally deserve it after what Joey has put me through. I don’t know. Who decides these types of things? Who gets to say if someone is being a bitch or if it’s completely okay since he did the same to you?

  “Ready?” Harry is standing next to me. He has put on a T-shirt. It’s Hugo Boss. Nice and tight over the six-pack.

  He sees that I am looking at him and I blush when I realize it. I get up and stand next to him. He is a lot taller than me. I like that. Joey is small. We’re about the same size. Makes me feel big when I am with him. Maybe it’s about time I was with a taller man. Someone who’ll make me feel small and delicate. Well, at least smaller.

  “You know what?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Can’t say that I do.”

  “I need to ask you something before we leave.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know this is going to sound awful, but I need to know why you have pictures and articles of that woman they found in the river? Why are you so interested in her? You even have an older picture of her from when she was much younger, and I haven’t seen that in the news or anywhere else?”

  I just blurt it out. No use wrapping things up. I know he’ll have to put two and two together and realize I have been going through his briefcase. That might make him angry with me or even make him resent me, but I can’t hold it back anymore. I need to know what is going on before I can trust him.

  He looks at me for a long time without saying anything. It makes me very uncomfortable. His eyes are on me, scrutinizing me. “You mean Shannon Ferguson?” he finally asks.

  I swallow hard, wondering if I have made a mistake. No. I believe in honesty before anything else.

  “Yes.”

  “How
do you even know this?” he asks. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is annoyed with me.

  “Okay. I went through your briefcase, all right? You were in the bathroom last night, and I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Ah, ‘cause I thought maybe Marcia had told you, since I know she saw the clippings when she walked into my room one day.”

  Yeah, that would have made me look a lot better. Think, Mary, think!

  “Well, she did. That’s why I wanted to see for myself,” I say, trying to save my dignity.

  Harry looks away. I can tell he is angry. He sits down on the couch and exhales.

  I blew it, didn’t I? I totally blew it.

  “Well, I can’t blame you for not trusting me,” he says. “But still. I thought we had something. I mean, last night was…”

  “I know. I felt it too,” I say. “I am sorry. But you are a stranger and I…well you could say I have trust issues.”

  Harry looks at me, then chuckles lightly. “All right. I’ll let this one pass. Because I enjoy your company so much. But next time, just ask me, okay?”

  “You kind of said you didn’t want to talk about yourself,” I say, “But let’s not get stuck in the details. What’s done is done.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  We look at each other in silence for what feels like forever. Then he gesticulates with his arms. “What are we waiting for?”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Ah, that. Right. Well, if you must know,” Harry exhales deeply and touches the bridge of his nose, “Shannon was my sister.”