by Becky McGraw
Chapter Twenty-One
At the third overpass on Eleventh Street, Zack ground his teeth, as horns blared behind him. He didn’t care, they could go around, because he wasn’t going fast and taking the chance of missing seeing her under the shadowed bridge. It was almost dark now, and Heather was small. She could be up there in the shadows and he’d never see her. Her damned cell phone was dead evidently, so he couldn’t call her, tell her he was there. He could just hope she was looking for him too, saw him going slow and would show herself.
He blew out a frustrated breath as the car came out on the other side of the bridge. He wondered how many more damned bridges there were on this street.
Suddenly, looking around, Zack noticed the landscape had changed, gotten dirtier, seedier-looking. Instead of upscale little boutiques and specialty stores, the street was now lined with video stores, liquor stores, pawn shops and check cashing places. Most of the dirty brick buildings had boarded windows or bars, others were decorated with graffiti. Zack had a feeling he’d just entered the bad part of town, and fear constricted his chest as he saw an older man, shoulders slumped, feet dragging as he pushed a rusty grocery cart heaping with things—clothes, a kid’s plastic sand bucket, and who knew what else. Probably his life’s possessions.
At the corner, he stopped at a red light, and saw a couple of heavily made-up, but scantily dressed women across the crosswalk, smoking cigarettes, watching cars as the crept by. There was no doubt in his mind what those women were up to, and it scared the shit out of him as he squinted to make sure the shorter one didn’t have cat-green eyes. Relief shot through him when she looked up and he saw she was Asian, definitely not Heather.
A horn blew behind him, and Zack pressed on the gas, dragged his eyes back to the road and could just make out another overpass in the distance. From the road signs, it looked like it might be the entrance to the interstate though. Damn, he’d run out of real estate, he thought, as he drove on. He’d just make a loop and try again. Disappointment settled in his chest, but right before he got on the ramp, he saw someone step out of the shadows and wave her arms over her head. He knew that dress, he’d bought that dress for her.
Adrenaline shot through Zack, his heart beat like a drum in his throat as he slammed on the brakes, and heard the car behind him do the same. He swerved off the entrance, holding on tight as the car hopped over the curb, then zoomed down the concrete embankment. The front end scraped loudly when he hit the bottom. Zack flinched, gritted his teeth and pumped the brakes to bring the car to a skidding stop in the bottom of what looked like to be a shallow canal lined on the other side by chain link fencing.
Under the overpass to the left, a bright orange glow lit the darkness, and he realized it was a fire built by the eight or so people huddling around the fifty-gallon drum. They were cooking over it, and it was keeping them warm. His eyes traveled up the rise that led to the supports of the interstate bridge, and he saw more people by themselves in the shadows. It had to be the saddest thing Zack ever seen in his life. And Heather had lived like this with these people. His heart broke for her, and his eyes filled as right then he realized exactly what this woman had been through—hell. If he didn’t get it before, he definitely got it now.
Opening his door, he got out, but he didn’t see her now. She’d evidently gone back under the overpass into the darkness. He took a few steps closer, but she appeared with the file folder, turned to look back and wave at someone then walked toward him. When she reached the car she sat the folder on the hood, and her body shook violently as she threw her arms around his waist and burst into tears.
Zack held her, rocked her, whispered comforting words, but he seethed inside. Jack Thomas forced her to live here, live this life. That bastard was in jail right now—just where he belonged. And that is where he’d stay, Zack vowed. He was safer there, because if they ever let him out, the shotgun in Zack’s truck had a shell with his name on it.
His arms tightened around her, Heather mumbled something into his chest, and he stiffened. “What did you say, angel?” he asked, definitely not sure he heard what he thought he heard, but wanting it to be so more than he wanted his next breath.
She took a deep shuddering breath, as she pushed back in his arms to meet his eyes. “I said I love you, Zack Taylor—I love you.” Her eyes filled again, and her lower lip trembled. “I wasn’t sure I’d have the chance again to tell you that. Thank you for saving me again.”
Relief made his knees weak, but he locked them. “You love me because I saved you?” he asked, wanting to make damned sure he understood her.
Her hand slid up to his face. “No, I love you because you are the most caring, kindest-hearted man I’ve ever met in my life. I didn’t think men like you existed, but you have proven me wrong time and time again.” She laughed, and the sound tickled his insides. “A girl could definitely get used to having you on her side.”
Zack’s heart beat out-of-control in his chest, floating in what felt like bubbly liquid there. “I could get used to that too—I’ll always be on your side, sweet thing. I told you that you need a keeper, and I’d happily sign up for the job.” For life—but that would come later. Right now, he needed to tell her how he felt, speak the words he’d never said to another woman, to a woman who blew all his high-minded ideas of the ideal woman for him out of the water. “But it’s not every woman I want to save—just you Haley Morgan. I love you too, angel, and I will never let anyone hurt someone I love. Ask Twyla,” he said with a grin, and she frowned.
“You love me like a sister?” she asked, sounding a little insulted and a lot confused as she took a step back.
Zack grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging in. “Are you nuts?!?” Her eyes narrowed, and he swallowed hard. He’d promised never to call her crazy again—even in jest—and he’d just done that. Again. “Brotherly feelings are the last thing I feel when I look at you, sweet thing. I love you because you are the finest, most courageous woman I’ve ever met.”
Her eyes darkened, glittered like emeralds in the street light as she put her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I’ve never had anyone love me before, and it feels great,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re here, but I’m still scared. Jack—”
A shiver shook her, and Zack hugged her to him. “Is in jail,” he ground out, as his eyes scanned the new people who seemed to magically appear near the entrance to the bridge, by the second as it got darker. Shady people on the fringe of the world who could hurt both of them. “We need to get the hell out of here and call Munson.” He pushed her away, and she snatched up the file folder from the hood, as he walked her around the car to her door and opened it.
She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Jack’s in jail?” she whispered, her lower lip trembling again. Even in the darkness, he could see the fear on her beautiful face. He put his finger on her lip to stop the shaking, and her mouth opened.
“Yes, he’s right where he belongs.” Zack nudged her inside the door when he saw a man walking toward the car. He did not want to wait to see what he wanted. “But we need to get out of here, and I’ll tell you all about it in the car.” Zack shut the door, skirted the front of the car, and was just getting inside and locking the doors when the man tapped on his window.
He didn’t make eye contact, he cranked the car, but Heather put her hand on his arm. “That’s Scuddy—give him a few bucks if you have it. He’s an old-timer and he’s hungry.”
If that’s what it took to get the hell out of here, he’d give them everything in his wallet. Reaching into his pocket, Zack grabbed his wallet, opened it and pulled out a wad of bills. He rolled down the window and stuck his hand outside.
The older man stared at it a minute, then grinned showing chipped brown teeth. “Heather said you were a good one,” the old man said with a rusty laugh. “A ten would help.” He surprised Zack when he peeled off a bill, before shoving the rest back at him. “Heather is a good girl. You take good care of her for me.”
With a knot in his throat, Zack handed the bills back out the window to him. It was obvious this man cared about Heather, and he deserved every penny Zack had for taking care of her while she lived here, keeping her alive. “Take it—that should keep you going for a few days,” he said, his voice gruff. “And don’t worry, I’ll definitely take care of her now.”
The old man looked at Zack’s hand like he hit the lottery. “You sure?” he asked, but he snatched the rest of the bills up before Zack even answered.
Heather leaned over Zack. “Share that with Louise. There’s plenty there for both of you, but don’t tell the others you have it, okay? And don’t spend it on liquor either—you’ve been on the wagon too long to fall off now! Go eat, and buy something warm for her. She’s got that thin housedress on and has to be freezing.”
“You’ve spent it before I even put it in my pocket.” Scuddy rolled his eyes, and shook his head, before giving her a chip-toothed smile that turned his weathered face into a roadmap to a hard life. “I’ll hang on to it and make sure to take care of Louise.” He met Zack’s eyes again, and his dark eyes glittered. “Thank you for the help, sir.”
“Welcome,” Zack replied gruffly, as he rolled up the window, his own throat tight. He cranked the car, made a three-point turn, and hit the gas swerving to get onto the interstate entrance ramp. “Don’t ever go back there again without me.”
Heather snorted, and he looked over to see her arms folded over her breasts. “I called that place home for three years, cowboy. Some of the old-timers like Scuddy and Louise remember me. They would never let the others hurt me.”
“Is that why you went there when you left the hotel? You felt safe there?”
The air inside the car became thick with tension, before she finally replied, “Yeah, it was a lot safer than sticking around that hotel and letting Jack get to me. I knew I could hide there and he wouldn’t find me. Half of those people have mental problems, a third are alcoholics, and all of them eat from dumpsters, but some of those folks are as close to family as I ever had. We watched each other’s backs, took care of each other.”
Zack’s heart squeezed painfully, and he reached his hand over to cover hers where it rested on her thigh. “I’m glad you had them then.” And he was glad he gave Scuddy, who seemed to be one of those people she called family, money to help him survive.
Heather slid her hand from under his and turned in the seat to face him. She crossed her arms under her breasts again. “Tell me what happened with Jack—you said he’s in jail?”
Zack huffed a breath. “After he tried to break into the room, he showed back up thirty minutes later with the police to run his mouth about how he was afraid you’d show up on his doorstep. Told them you were a runner, and he was concerned you were running away from the charges against you, said he wanted to see justice done.” Out of the corner of his eye, Zack saw a tremor rock her body, and she hugged herself tighter. “Truthfully, I barely got out of there without punching him in the face.”
“It’s good you didn’t, because then you’d have been in jail too, probably hurt again. A punch in the face from you is not going to make him less of an asshole. Nothing will.”
“I beg to differ, angel,” Zack refuted with a broad grin. “He’ll be having a major attitude adjustment soon. The video the police found on a camera across the street showed him going inside the hotel right before you made the call to hotel security. It also showed him coming out with a ball cap and scarf in his hand a few minutes after you called. Was he wearing a ball cap and scarf when he knocked at the door?”
“Yeah, he had the scarf wrapped around his face, but I saw those eyes. I know those eyes,” she said and another shiver shook her.
“Can you identify the scarf and cap?” Zack asked.
“Yeah, it was burgundy Sooners hat, and a black scarf with OU on the bottom.”
“They found the scarf and cap in his car, so that’s more proof. There’s a witness across the hall who heard the yelling, and saw him through the peephole. All that considered, he’s at least going down for terrorizing you. His little visit might help your other case too. Munson is going to take your statement and help you file a complaint, so the formal charges can be filed. He’s also going to help you get a restraining order to keep him away from you if he gets out.”
“Oh—we’re going to see Munson?” she asked, turning in the seat again. “Good, I have a name from the list that he needs to follow up with too. I called more of the names on the list under the bridge, and one girl was very upset when I talked to her.”
Zack’s body tensed, and his grip tightened on the wheel as hope sparked inside him. “Get my phone off the dash, and call him now. Tell him we’re on the way to see him, and find out where we should meet him.”
Thirty minutes later, they pulled off the interstate and into an all-night diner where Munson said he would meet them. He told Heather he had news too, but didn’t want to go into it on the telephone, and he didn’t want to meet at the station. Zack found a parking spot near the door, then got out and opened her door to help her.
“Hang in there, angel, this is the turn in things we needed.” He tipped her chin up, lowered his head and dropped a kiss on her mouth. “I was worried sick, and I am so damned glad I found you.”
“I’m glad you found me too,” she whispered, and Zack dipped his head for another pass over her lips. When he tried to deepen the kiss, put his hands at her waist to pull her closer, Heather put her hand on his chest and pushed back.
“Don’t get all mushy on me now, cowboy. We might have made a turn, but we still have a long way to go before this is over.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it, sweet thing,” he replied with a cocky grin as he dropped his arm over her shoulders. “We’re going to fast track this and get back home.”
Zack had to get back home, so he sure hoped his words were true. He stepped in front of Heather to open the diner door, and let her go first. Heather looked around the room at the people in each booth, at each table. She had no idea what Munson looked like, and she’d forgotten to ask when she talked to him a few minutes ago. A hostess in a pink uniform and white apron walked up to them. Leaning down she grabbed two menus from under the hostess stand, and smiled. “You looking for someone?” she asked.
“Yeah, Harry Munson,” Zack replied, and Heather was surprised when the waitress nodded. She turned and walked toward a booth against the back wall where a big black man in a dark blue knit cap sat. He tipped his chin as they approached, but he didn’t smile. He looked tough, mean and strictly business. Heather felt a little intimidated as she scooted across the black vinyl seat to sit near the window. Zack sat beside her, then reached his hand across the table.
“Zack Taylor,” he announced with a smile.
“Harry Munson,” the man said, swallowing Zack’s hand with his, as a smile lit up his face and eyes. He wasn’t so scary after all, Heather thought, reaching her hand toward him next. “You must be Haley,” he said warmly, adding his other hand to cover hers.
“Heather,” she corrected, trying to pull her hand back, but he held tight.
“You’re a very brave young lady, Heather. I just want to let you know I believe you now. Jack Thomas is a predator of the worst kind, and it looks like you’re not the only young woman he’s preyed upon. I talked to two other teenagers he was responsible for monitoring, and they have horror tales similar to yours. We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
The oddest feeling floated through Heather—relief, but something else she couldn’t identify, it felt like a light switch flipped on inside her body. Munson finally released her hand, and it took a minute for Heather to push words past the knot of emotion in her throat. “Ginny Pierce—you need to talk to her too. She wouldn’t tell me, but I heard it in her voice.”
“First things first,” Harry said with a deep, rumbling laugh, as he reached down beside him to grab a file folder and set it on the table. H
e unclipped the pen from the folder, and removed a sheet of paper. Sliding it over to her, he laid the pen on top. “I need you to write down exactly what happened at that hotel room today. Give me details that will convince a judge he needs to stay in jail until we can finish this investigation. I know you must be very afraid, that he’ll pull another stunt like this to keep you from prosecuting him. If he was kept in jail, you’d feel much safer, I’m sure.”
Heather’s eyes flew up to his, and he spoke to her with them. Told her exactly what she needed to write. She picked up the pen, and her mind zoomed over the facts as fast as she could write them down, adding how his actions made her feel. It wasn’t a lie that she was scared out of her mind that he would do it again, and she wrote that too. When she finished, she looked up.
“Now, sign your name—Haley Morgan—down at the bottom.” It took a minute and some thought for her to scrawl her birth name on the paper, before she pushed the paper back at Harry Munson.
He looked it over, smiled, and removed another sheet of paper from the file. “Now, this one is where you tell me what he did to you twelve years ago. Lewd and lascivious conduct with a minor is going to be the clincher to make sure he becomes a permanent guest of the Oklahoma Department of Corrections. Again, details matter, so I want everything you have, but the truth.”
“Okay,” she whispered, taking the paper from him. God, that he’d done to other girls what he’d done to her nauseated her. “Did he, um, rape any of the other girls you talked to?” she mumbled, as she put the pen to paper and tried to force herself to recount what happened that day, what Jack Thomas had done to her.
“They’ve filed similar complaints, yes,” he said vaguely, and her eyes flew to his again. The anger in his eyes said yes, even though he didn’t mouth the words. Heather’s chest constricted and trapped her sob. Her fist closed around the ink pen, and Zack slid his arm over the back of the seat to squeeze her shoulder. “I’m on the ledge with you, baby. Don’t look down, just write,” he said, his voice soothing.