by Kimberly Rae
Brianna handed a container of rocky road to Stephanie with a smile. “We brought enough for everyone.”
Stephanie passed it back to Steve. “What do you mean, twenty to life?”
“On the way to the prison, the police got a recording of him ranting and screaming. He yelled a lot of things about Meagan and Cole, but then he started talking about his mother and then Claudia. Then they said he started arguing with, like, three people in his head. I think he forgot anyone else was there. They recorded him yelling about killing Claudia and he even said where he’d taken her. We’ve got a team headed to that area right now. As soon as they find the body, it’s over for him.”
Meagan dug into her carton with a sigh. “I have to admit I like the idea of not seeing him for an extremely long time.”
“Even better, he won’t be seeing you. We can open the curtains again.”
Meagan’s eyes lit up at the man in the doorway. “Pops!”
“I was going to have to live till doomsday just to go get the mail from the mailbox for you. I sure wasn’t letting you outside knowing some guy with binoculars could be out in our woods somewhere.”
Kelsey arranged the balloons on the wheeled table near the bed. “It just gives me chills to think of him being out there all that time, staring. And following you.” She shook her head. “And you were worried about Cole following you two or three times.”
As if saying his name brought him to life, Cole Fleming appeared behind Meagan’s grandfather in the hallway. Meagan’s heart monitor betrayed her joy at seeing him. He’d only been gone a little over an hour. Pops clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for going after my girl.”
“I wish I could have kept her out of here. If I’d only—”
“No you don’t,” Meagan said with a wave of her spoon. “We’ve already gone through that. No more regrets from anybody.”
Cole looked over Pop’s shoulder and grinned at her. “You’re right. Let’s have a birthday party instead.”
“Is that why all these people are here?” If Steve turned a bit more, he’d look like a child who had been sent to the corner. “Did you invite them? They should have given Meagan a bigger room.”
“He didn’t need to invite us,” Kelsey said, perching on the edge of Meagan’s bed with one hip. “We’re all here because we love Meagan.” She laughed at the look on Steve’s face. “Okay, well we don’t all love her, but we’re all glad she’s doing so well. And goodness, if you were in the hospital on your birthday, wouldn’t you want visitors?”
“Sure would,” Meagan’s grandfather said, clearing a path to the one chair in the room and falling into it with a huff. “Nothing worth watching on TV in these places.”
Meagan looked him over. “You feeling okay, Pops?”
“Nothing wrong with me except I got bored half to death stuck in that hospital under guard when everybody knew I was healthy as an old horse can be. The nurses were starting to think I was in some kind of witness protection program. I told them I was former CIA, used to protect President Carter.” He chuckled. “Got a few extra pudding cups out of a few of them before they figured me out.”
Meagan’s ribs ached from trying not to laugh. “Oh, Pops.”
Her grandfather looked at Cole. “Well, son, don’t just stand out in the hallway. Bring the food in!”
Cole angled through the door, balancing two large pizzas in one hand, flowers in another. Plastic Wal-Mart bags hung from each arm. Meagan smiled. Her right eye was swollen shut, her left leg was scraped raw, her bruised ribs complained with every breath, and the tips of her fingers were strangely numb. “I’ll say one thing,” she said as he set the flowers on her lap. “I’ve never had a more unforgettable birthday.”
__________________________
Thursday, January 8
6:19 p.m.
Kelsey stacked the used ice cream cartons into a pyramid over the empty pizza boxes. Steve tossed plastic spoons across the room, some of them making it into the trash can near the door. One went wayward and hit the entering nurse in the leg.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbled.
“This is quite a party,” the nurse said, picking up the spoon and the others littering the floor. “I’m glad you had a good time, but our patient needs some rest if she wants to get released this evening.”
“This evening?” Meagan sat up, then grasped her ribs. “Ouch. Really?”
“Possibly.” The nurse wrapped Meagan’s arm with a blood-pressure cuff and mouthed a count. “But not if your numbers stay up like they are now. There are too many people in this room. Your noise is disturbing patients in adjacent rooms who need sleep.” She half-smiled at Meagan. “I’m afraid your friends are just too much fun for our facility.”
“Out, everybody,” Meagan’s grandfather said. “I want to get this girl home where she belongs.”
Steve and Stephanie said their goodbyes. “I’d offer to take you home,” Steve said to Cole, tossing his last spoon in the trash. “But you’ve destroyed three cars in the past two weeks, including mine. You’re not getting within twelve feet of Stephanie’s.”
“Can’t blame you there.” Cole grinned. “But you’ve got to admit, none of them were my fault.”
“Tell that to my insurance company.”
Cole laughed. “You can get the FBI to call them.”
“Speaking of the FBI...” Steve frowned. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
70
Thursday, January 8
6:22 p.m.
Kelsey and Brianna hugged Meagan one more time and carried the pizza boxes and cartons from the room. Stephanie slipped out after them to talk in the hallway, and the nurse followed, but Steve remained just inside. Pops lowered his chin to rest on his chest. He folded his hands over his belly. “I’ll just take a cat nap while you fellows talk.”
Meagan couldn’t leave the room with the others and it would look pretty obvious if she up and faked a nap right then. She picked at the tape around her IV and then used the tip of her plastic spoon to poke at her numb fingertips.
“We can talk about whatever this is later, if you want,” Cole said. Meagan noticed he still had one of the bags from the store draped over his arm. Unopened. She fought curiosity and pulled up her sheets, which had slid down to reveal too much of her unattractive hospital gown. “I brought Meagan’s grandfather, so I’m going to stay to drive them both home if she gets released.”
“Now works.” Steve had his hands in his pockets until Stephanie returned to his side. He pulled his left hand out and put his arm around her. She hesitated, but then leaned against him and rested her palm against his heart. “Want me to tell them?” she asked.
“No. I’m not that much of a coward.” He tugged on a strand of her hair, then spoke to Cole. “I wanted you to know I’m going to Washington next week. I’ve got the name of a guy at the Pentagon. I’m going to tell him what really happened. That I might have been the one to give away our envoy’s position.”
“But you aren’t sure you did.”
“I need to make it right.” Steve pulled his wife closer and Meagan stopped pretending not to listen. “It’s been eating me alive, Cole. I didn’t realize how much. I want to be free of it, even if it means a court martial or worse.”
Cole’s eyes misted over. He put out his hand. “I’m proud of you.” They shook hands. “Want me to come with you?”
Steve tossed a nod in Meagan’s direction. “You have a good reason to stay. Keep an eye out for Stephanie while I’m gone, will you? Make sure her heating unit doesn’t go out or whatever.” He and Stephanie started out the door but he stopped to say, “But don’t get near her car.”
Cole laughed. “Will do.” A heavy silence filled the room as Cole closed the door and only the three of them remained. Pops snored softly to the side. Self-conscious of her thin gown and thin sheet and black and blue face and scraped arms, Meagan looked everywhere but at Cole as he approached the side of her bed.
“I’m su
rprised you and Steve didn’t need visits to the hospital yourselves,” she said, focusing on her fingernails. Several were broken and they all needed a polish. They matched the rest of her. “And Quinn. Is he okay?”
“We’re all fine. Somebody looked us over when we brought you in and gave us bandages and cream and stuff. All our cuts and bruises were superficial, thanks to you.”
“I’m so glad you understood the note,” she said. Her fingers clenched around the top of the sheet. If the nurse wanted her blood pressure to go down, Cole’s car blowing up was the last memory she should be revisiting.
“I’m glad you wrote it.” He looked around for a chair but her grandfather was in the only one, so he lowered himself to half-sit on the side of her bed. She shifted to give him more room. “I brought you something,” he said. “A thank you present.”
“I should be thanking you.”
“A birthday present then. I didn’t want to give it to you while everybody else was around.” He lifted the bag from his arm and handed it to her. “Sorry it’s not wrapped. I wanted to get back here before the pizza got cold.”
Intrigued, she reached inside and felt something soft. “New bunny slippers?” she joked. When she pulled it out, she knew her face—the part that wasn’t black and blue—went red within seconds. “You bought me pajamas?”
“They’re all the same color, see?” He held up the different pieces. “The nightgown matches the pants, and the robe goes with them both.” With a grin, he pulled a receipt out of his back pocket. “But you can have the receipt if they’re the wrong size, or if you want to trade them out for a mis-matched set.”
Even her ears were hot. What was she supposed to say?
Pops sat upright, lifted his head, and directed a glare at Cole. “Well, young man, I hope you have good intentions concerning my granddaughter. Buying her nightclothes is, in my opinion, equivalent to a proposal.” Meagan wanted to dive under her flimsy sheet. Her grandfather dropped his gaze to the daisy-yellow cotton pants, long yellow t-shirt nightgown covered in bunnies, and yellow fleece robe, and chuckled. “Never mind. I’ll get back to my pretend nap. Carry on.” He lowered his head and ignored them both.
Cole grinned as Meagan held the fleece robe up to cover her face. “Thanks,” she said behind it. “I think.”
He laughed and she dared a glance at him just as her nurse opened the door and took brisk steps to her side. “What a cute nightgown,” she gushed. “My daughter has one like that, but it has Tweety Birds on it.”
Cole’s smile was about to hit his ears. “How old is she?”
“Twelve.”
His gaze never left Meagan’s face. “Bet she looks cute in it.”
Meagan ducked behind the robe again, but the nurse made her stick her arm out to check her blood pressure. “Hmm,” she said. “Still high. I don’t think they’d have let you go home even if all your blood tests had been normal.”
“It’s his fault,” Meagan said, then glanced up. “Wait. You said they won’t let me go?”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid. You’ve got some electrolytes that are up, probably due to the medication. They should be back to normal by the morning, but they want to keep you here one night just to make sure.” She packed up her arsenal of equipment and patted Cole’s shoulder on her way out. “It was nice of you to bring her something to wear tonight. Now you need to get going so she can get some rest.”
Pops stood and stretched. “Sounds like I’ll be finishing this nap at home.” He patted her arm. “We’ll be back for you in the morning, if this young man is willing to drive me over.”
“I’m willing.” Cole had pocketed the receipt and was pulling the tags off the pants. “Guess you’re stuck with these whether you like them or not.”
“I like them.” She rubbed the soft fleece of the robe. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Pops made his way out of the room and Cole stood and leaned over her bed. “Tomorrow. And the next day. And if it’s okay with you, every day after that for a long, long time.”
Meagan’s toes curled under the sheets. She couldn’t stop her own smile from corresponding with his. He moved toward her, and just before his lips touched hers, she nodded and whispered, “It’s okay with me.”
SNEAK PEEK AT
THE RUNAWAY
BOOK TWO IN THE RAHAB’S ROPE TRILOGY
Hank grabbed a beer and turned on his computer. He propped his feet up on the table. “Just another day at the office,” he said with a grin. The new guys in the business, the ones as young as Hank’s Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat profiles claimed Hank was, didn’t appreciate how much easier life was thanks to the internet.
Back in the day, he used to have to go to a new city and spend nights roaming the streets to find runaways. It cost money and time, and there was always the risk of being caught. He had never liked hunting outdoors, not even for animals. All that waiting, sometimes for nothing.
Now the hunt was less like a stake-out in a tree stand and more like throwing out a bunch of fishing lures and seeing who would bite. He logged in and looked over his spreadsheet. Last week he’d sent out a message to fifteen hundred girls in Gainesville, Georgia. This week he’d aim higher. Atlanta. It was already a playground for predators, but there were enough vulnerable girls to go around.
Just for fun, he typed up a new message:
I saw ur profile today and want to get to know you. You r beautiful and I am captivated by your smile. I live in a remote area and don’t have many friends here. I love to meet people online. Would u write me back? Distance isn’t a problem when fate it at work.
“Nice,” he said into the empty room. He chugged down some beer and belched. Working the internet was ten times easier than the streets. He’d throw out this little piece of bait without even having to get dressed or brush his teeth. He was getting too old for young runaways to be drawn to him on sight, anyway. Funny how they looked at a guy their father’s age as a potential danger, but a good-looking guy their own age as someone to trust.
He should go through the little message and look for errors, but why bother? Kids didn’t care about things like that. A mistake or two made him sound more like the seventeen-year-old they would see on his profile picture.
His house smelled like BO. Or maybe it was just him. He’d need to take a shower before he went out to meet a girl he’d groomed in Roswell. She was running away next Tuesday. He’d send her a message and tell her to bring a friend.
By the time he finished typing, three new messages had arrived. He clicked on the first one and chuckled. Flirting with these girls, keeping it light while pushing just a little, was the fun part of the hunt for him. This girl from Gainesville, Bailey, had written back to tell him she was not fooled by his lonely talk and claimed he was probably sending messages to hundreds of girls. But still she’d written him. She hadn’t been able to resist.
The ones like Bailey who got high on the risk were amusing, but his favorite where like the girl who had started a conversation with him after his last message to Gainesville. She was young and lonely and real needy. When he wrote, she responded quickly. She told him she was not supposed to be on the internet so their relationship had to stay a secret. He had confided some nonsense about his bad family background, and she’d told him about her father mistreating her and how she was in a special place to help her recover.
He thought that would be the end of it, but when she said she was due to get released in a week, and was afraid of facing life out there on her own, he knew he had hit the jackpot. Perfect. Once exploited, still exploitable.
I’ll be there for you, he’d written. I’ve got some money saved up. I’m going to come down thee and visit you. You won’t be alone.
She’d resisted at first. Said her brother wouldn’t like it. He hadn’t written back to that, and the waiting had worked. She wrote again, worried he was angry, afraid he had rejected her.
Yeah, those needy ones were like a drug to him. I’m coming to Gaines
ville, he typed into the computer. I’ll be meeting you soon, Sadie Fleming.
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AcknowLedgments
My thanks to Lou Ann Keisler for the enthusiastic response to The Shadow way back at the beginning. Your words, “I was terrified from the very first page. I couldn’t put this book down! It has it all: two love stories, parallel missions, and justice—mixed with lunatic danger and a drug investigation. I loved Shadow!” were a big verbal cheerleader for me. And I loved knowing that the grandpa came through fun and loving, exactly as intended.
Though in heaven now, I have to thank my real-life grandpa, Joe Olachea, for being so much fun I had to make him a book character. Thanks, Grandpa, for all the quotes and made-up songs and wonderful memories! I’m glad you’re beyond leg wrappings and sugar checks and all us women bossing you around. =)
To the Rahab’s Rope team, my sincere thanks for your support and encouragement from the very beginning idea for this book. I love what you do and hope The Shadow will get some more people to know about you and get involved.