Duck and Run

by TL Schaefer

  The couch and chairs were tipped on their sides, stuffing bursting from torn cushions. Craftsman side tables she’d spent months finding and then refinishing were now kindling. The pictures on the mantel were still there, but obviously defaced. Her heart clenched. She didn’t want to look too closely.

  She backed out of the doorway slowly, then ran to the SUV, breath coming out in harsh little pants. She needed to get away. Now.

  She pulled away from the house too fast, laying a bit of rubber, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror, even as she held her breath, a mix of pure terror and rote instinct guiding her motions.

  Once she’d cleared the neighborhood, she pulled into a busy gas station, rage taking over for the terror. That rage was only tempered by the fact she hadn’t been dumb enough to walk into an ambush. Her spidey senses had served her well enough in that regard.

  She dialed 911. “Someone broke into my house. I don’t think they’re still there, but I left the scene.” She rattled off the address. “I’m at a gas station down the street.”

  The dispatcher told her to hang tight, that they’d send a patrol officer to her shortly.

  She’d forgotten all about Linc’s surveillance. It made the itch between her shoulders abate a little. But just a little.

  Because she knew who had destroyed her home.

  There was only one person who hated her enough to do that kind of damage. Lori Wright.

  Cris blew out a long breath as she stared at the gas pumps, her mind going back to Austin. But not to the day she’d taken Andrew Wright’s life. Instead, she flashed to everything that had come after.

  To a tiny brunette woman with enough hate in her to power the entire state of Texas. A woman who had spent a good part of the last six months Cris had lived in Austin a living hell.

  The woman hadn’t just harassed her, she’d actively stalked her, made her miserable, made her afraid of her own shadow. Made her run.

  And that just pissed her off.

  But she’d had her family to consider then, and Linc’s appearance in her life had been so fortuitous she’d jumped at the chance to start over. To give her family a chance to recover.

  So how had Lori found her? She could buy Smith and his crew using their positions and contacts to get information, but Lori didn’t have the resources—monetary or otherwise—to lead her to Oklahoma City.

  But there was no doubt in her mind Lori was behind this. And with that acceptance, she felt certainty slide over her.

  This time it would end. This time she wouldn’t run.

  She gave herself a few moments to work out her purely rational fear, her perfectly rational anger.

  And as she sat there, she found herself reaching for her cell, needing someone to listen to her, hear her fears, her hopes she was all wrong. How odd, and mildly disturbing, was it that her first impulse was to call Nick? Not her father, not Linc, but Nick.

  How in the world had he become so important to her in a few short days? So important that she reached for him without a second thought?

  No. She might want to talk to Nick, but first she needed to tell Linc that Lori was back, that the restraining order and all of her efforts had meant squat. It was the smart thing, the rational thing, to do. Yet it didn’t make her feel any better, safer.

  She dialed Linc, expelled a breath when he picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey Cris, what’s up? Are you back in town?”

  “Yeah, I’m home. About that… Pretty sure that Lori Wright trashed my house and I’m hanging at a gas station down the street.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her mentor cursed. Something he never, ever did. “Head downtown to the main police department. Captain Montgomery is an old friend. I’ll tell him you’re on your way and meet you there.”

  She knew exactly where Linc was talking about, so less than ten minutes later she walked into the OCPD lobby.

  Captain Montgomery greeted her, happy to see her in one piece and royally pissed about the OCPD cops who’d been part of the theft ring. Apparently Linc had filled him in on everything, to include who her father was. Which grated, but really did make things easier.

  Everything moved quickly after that.

  Four officers were dispatched to her place in support of the patrol officer already there, along with a violent crimes detective.

  When Montgomery confirmed her restraining order and ran Lori’s name, he went ballistic.

  Apparently, Lori had been busy in the last few days, leaving a trail of crime scene after crime scene in her wake. From a pair of brazen convenience store holdups outside where she’d been hospitalized in Galveston to a violent carjacking just north of Dallas that’d made the nightly news, she’d made no attempt to hide her identity, hadn’t obscured her prints, had stood in clear view of surveillance cameras. Didn’t seem to care if the cops knew it was her or not.

  It was sociopathic, and right on target with everything Cris knew.

  No one had died—yet—but in Montgomery’s opinion, it was just a matter of time, and Cris was the most likely target.

  So just like that Cris went from being a fully functional adult to someone who needed to be watched, coddled, taken care of. Again.

  It hadn’t suited with Nick, and it sure as hell didn’t suit now.

  Captain Montgomery would have made a great target to vent her frustration on, but none of this was his fault. And she might need him later. Winning friends and influencing people and all that jazz.

  She’d been good at it, once upon a time.

  She knew what Montgomery’s men would find—squat. Lori might be off-the-charts crazy, but she wasn’t stupid, or at least not stupid enough to hang out waiting for the cops to show up.

  And that meant Cris, Linc and Montgomery needed to come up with a plan of some kind. Sooner would be better than later.

  The meeting in Montgomery’s office twenty minutes later could have easily turned into a departmental pissing match, but Linc and Montgomery had played well together in the past, and it showed.

  Cris wasn’t sure how happy they were going to be with her plan, but it was her life, dammit.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “No way!” The men’s voices warred with hers. It was eerily reminiscent of the morning in Linc’s kitchen. Then it had been Linc and Nick shooting her strategy down. She’d won then, and she’d win now.

  “It’s the only way that makes sense,” she said, using every bit of her hostage negotiation chops to get through to them. “We’ll do it your way first, see if the BOLO pans out. But if it doesn’t, then we try the house first. I doubt she’ll show, but it’s worth a try since it’s more contained. If that doesn’t work, then we’ve got to flush her out. The only way for that to happen is for us to bait her into coming after me. The splashier it is, the angrier she’ll get, and that’s when she’ll make a mistake.” It was a good idea, and it wasn’t as if she intended on going it alone or anything. OCPD and OSBI would be around her, in force, waiting for Lori to show just one hair of her crazy head.

  She waited a few moments, letting the men bicker amongst themselves, and when their arguments finally petered out, she leaned forward and stared each of them in the eye. “So, what’ll it be?”

  She splurged on a top-floor corner room at the Colcord Hotel overlooking the Myriad Botanical Gardens. The seventeen-acre green space had bulbs popping up, pear and cherry trees in full bloom. It was pretty, soothed her soul.

  As she drew her bath and waited for room service, she really thought about what she was doing tonight. Taking down time. Letting her mind rest.

  She hadn’t allowed herself any down time since Austin. It had all been activity, a flurry of things that had seemed so vital at that moment. She hadn’t taken a vacation, hadn’t even driven more than a state away, for God’s sake.

  Was it any wonder she was questioning who she was and what she wanted?

  Room service rang the doorbell (it was that kind of hotel) and when she answered the door her dinner
and wine from the five-star restaurant on the first floor was centered on a wheeled cart.

  She poured a glass of wine, poured a handful of chicharrons and guacamole onto a plate, and set everything on the bath-side table, then sunk into the jetted tub and let her mind go anywhere but here. Anywhere but Texas.

  Of course, she immediately thought of Nick, of their night together. Of the way they’d fit together perfectly.

  And that was all she needed to let herself slide away from the here and now, from stalkers and danger and mayhem. She slid into thoughts of Nick and felt like she was coming home.

  Chapter 13

  Nick debriefed with Jacobsen right after arriving in Tulsa, then took the rest of the day and the next off. The Oklahoma portion of the case had been solved, and the KBI and Rangers were almost finished tying up their ends as well.

  He’d considered texting Cris to see how she was, how her return to Oklahoma City had been, anything to engage her. Decided against it because he wanted to give her some time. If he didn’t hear from her in the next day or so, he’d call her.

  Because he was at loose ends, at least for the moment, he’d done something completely unexpected. He called his father. Asked if they could have a cup of coffee at the diner around the corner from his parents’ trailer.

  They sat in companionable silence for a long time, sipping coffee and eating pie before his dad caved. “Been awhile, Nick,” he said, his voice tired, his face jaundiced. He looked every bit of his sixty years, and then some.

  “It has,” Nick agreed. He hadn’t been sure why he’d come here today, not until just this moment. “I met a woman. I think she might be the one for me.”

  Winston’s face lit up. “Well, that’s something. I’d almost given up on you, son.”

  Nick hated that he was going to take away that light, but the words needed to be said. “I almost did too. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone like Cristine, not after growing up the way I did.”

  His father sat back against the booth back, face blank now.

  “I thought you and Mom were a normal couple. That all the booze and excuses and just plain drama was what I was destined to repeat. It didn’t matter that I’d seen several of my buddies settle down happily. In my head, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For them to be as miserable as you two were.”

  He swallowed hard. “For the longest time I thought you’d broken me, that I could never find someone to care for who’d look at me and not see someone they needed to fix. The truth is, only I can fix myself, and when I’m with Cris, I don’t need fixing at all.”

  Winston pushed away from the table, threw a five on the table, and walked away without a word.

  Nick thought about stopping him, but knew it wouldn’t make a difference, would only draw out his own disappointment.

  He finished his pie, though it tasted like sawdust in his mouth, settled the bill, and drove home. To his empty, somewhat sterile, bachelor pad.

  And wished he was ninety minutes south, doing almost anything but this.

  Two days later…

  Nick took the first round of attaboys reasonably well, but an hour later, he just wanted a monster aspirin and some silence. He wasn’t likely to get either. For a morning that had started out so remarkably well, it had sure gone to hell relatively quickly. He’d never been much for accolades, and the rah-rahing he was getting on this case was no different.

  He’d spent yesterday at the cabin, just lounging on the dock, enjoying the sunshine, pretending to fish. And letting everything, the investigation, Cris, his family, all fade to the background while he got his shit together.

  But now he was back, and apparently, he was the man of the hour.

  When his cell rang—his real cell, not the one he’d been using the whole time he was undercover—he took it as a sign. And a gift.

  “McClain,” he answered the unfamiliar number.

  “Nick,” Cris’ voice was an oh-so-welcome one. “We’ve had a bit of a complication here.”

  Warning strobes went off in his mind. He’d been Cris’ last “complication” and had almost gotten her killed. And while his first, knee-jerk response was to go all caveman protector, he knew he couldn’t. Not if he wanted a chance for a place in her life. So he chilled, but it took ridiculous effort. “Your complications are usually pretty gnarly. Care to share?”

  He could almost hear her surprise, and then her hesitation, could visualize her worrying that full bottom lip between her teeth, as she contemplated telling him. Dammit, he wanted to be there for her. Wanted her to need him.

  “Lori Wright broke into my house two days ago and trashed it.” Her tone was measured, but he’d been around her long enough to hear the anger beneath the control. Her space, a space she’d made very personal, had been violated—again.

  “You’re obviously okay,” he said, even though inside something angry and primal had begun to shift, come to life. It was a feeling he’d embraced as a young hell raiser and then fought against most of his adult life, even as a Marine. “Is there anything I can do?” Why hadn’t she called him?

  There was that brief hesitation again, as if she were warring with something, then her voice came, soft and low. “Can you come back to Oklahoma City? We’ve got a plan, but Linc wants you here. He won’t budge on it.”

  Cris paced the interior of the station’s conference room, waiting. Fidgeting. Pacing all over again.

  She’d rolled pretty easily when Linc insisted on bringing Nick in as her pseudo bodyguard, so Linc and the OCPD team could concentrate on nailing Lori. Even Montgomery had agreed once Linc reminded him of Nick’s involvement in shutting down the auto fraud ring.

  She could have called him, used him as a sounding board, but dammit, she wanted to be her own woman, didn’t want to lean on him, thought he was halfway to becoming a crutch for her, rather than someone she wanted to get to know on a much bigger level.

  She’d held off, working the plan out with Linc and crew until even she had to agree that bringing him back on was the right thing to do.

  But now she had to live with her decision, both to allow Nick to come back, and to press with the plan she’d come up with in the first place. Second-guessing herself wasn’t usually her gig, but she’d been a gigantic ball of nerves ever since hanging up the phone.

  She’d spent most of her adult life standing on her own two feet, on making a name for herself that wasn’t based on her family name. And when she screwed that up, she’d worked her butt off to recreate herself. Until two days ago, she thought she’d succeeded. Until she realized that she hadn’t been doing anything but hiding.

  She had no true ambition, no future beyond putting one foot in front of the other. And until today, it had been enough.

  She’d been afraid to hope for more—from her life and from herself. Because when hopes were dashed it hurt. Hope was risky, and she’d never been a risk taker, not really. In reaching out to Nick she’d taken the first step. She dared, for the first time in years, to hope that she might find what her parents shared.

  She was afraid to describe what she felt for Nick McClain, even more afraid than she was of Lori Wright.

  "So, give me the lowdown on this crazy chick."

  Cris blew out a breath. Nick had shown up at the station about two hours after her call, looking ultra-confident and badass. Only his slight limp had hinted at the physical recovery he was probably still undergoing from Smith’s beating. Not that he’d ever admit to it. God save her from too-confident men, she thought, even as she looked her fill.

  He’d bundled her up in yet another tank-like SUV and brought her home. Home. Looking around the room almost brought tears to her eyes. Almost. Because she wouldn’t let Lori Wright make her cry.

  Her initial impression of the damage hadn’t been quite accurate. It was worse, much worse. The furniture she’d painstakingly searched for, sat on, had her butt prints and all, was destroyed, kindling. The flooring she’d spent hours on in the kitchen had bee
n sledgehammered—she knew because the sledge was still propped up against the destroyed dishwasher.

  But the worst was the fireplace. She’d put her heart into restoring the fireplace, handpicked every tile, rebuilt the firebox herself. Stained the mantle.

  Tears fogged her vision again as she looked at what had been pristine brick and was now defaced with “die, bitch” in white spray paint. And her pictures. All her pictures had been destroyed, the eyes cut out of most of the people in the photos, the frames twisted and bent, the glass shattered.

  Something inside her broke just a little, even as she tried to push it down.

  It had taken Lori a long, long time to do this much damage, and she wondered what might have happened if she’d been home instead of with Nick, on the run.

  Then she realized Nick was waiting for her answer and she snapped back to the here and now.

  She forced her shoulders into a shrug, as if it didn’t matter. When it did, so very, very much. “From what the guys downtown say, she escaped from the hospital in south Texas about a week ago. The restraining order I filed had my address on it, and she got ahold of a copy. Likely snagged her paper file on the way out, somehow. Regardless, she's here, and she’s nutty as a fruitcake, but also ridiculously smart. The cop on surveillance didn’t even see her smash the window of my bedroom and crawl through. OCPD put a BOLO out on her. I promised to wait two days to see if they caught her. It ended up being a good thing we had to put cameras in my place, after Smith did his thing. Now we've got proof of what she did. She was too crazy to stand trial before, and no judge is going to look at what she did to my place and not send her straight back to the asylum.”

  "What do we do in the meantime?" His words were calm, professional.

  "I’d like to start cleaning up before we put the plan into action tonight. If nothing else, maybe she’ll show up while we’re here and all my big strong protectors can take her down.” Her voice was tight now, pissed. "Feels like we just did this, huh? But the other way around."