“You know that’s not true,” he said, low and gruff. “But even if it is—even if you’d been one of those girls out by SeaTac—you fought your way to independence and dignity. I hold by what I said. You’re amazing.”
Oh no! The tears came, however she tried to stop them. She knew the instant he felt the dampness on his skin, because he tugged her over him, until she was sprawled atop his long, strong body. And then he held her, murmuring, “Cry, honey. It’s okay,” and other things she didn’t quite take in.
Meg only cried for a minute. She usually hated how she felt afterward. But this time...this time, she felt cleansed. Telling him made her realize anew how far she’d come. There had been years of grinding poverty after she left Emilio, but she’d made it. With her own hard work, she’d made it, and in time to keep Emily from growing up part of that world and ashamed of her mother.
She’d told Jack, and he didn’t seem disgusted.
“You named Emily for him,” he said suddenly.
She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Yes, in a way. It pleased him, and, you know, he wasn’t bad to me.”
“No.” Jack’s hands worked magic on muscles that inexplicably ached. “No,” he said tenderly, “you’re right.”
Meg would never know if Emilio had loved her or been capable of love. She hoped fury had been his primary emotion when he came home to an empty apartment.
“Is Meg Harper your real name?”
“Yes.” She loved being surrounded by him this way. “I knew no one would be looking for me. Well, except Emilio, and I had told him my last name was Harvey. It’s the first name that came to me. I didn’t have a driver’s license yet, or any ID at all. I had to order my birth certificate so I could open the bank account, but Jordan let me have it sent to her address.”
“Smart girl.”
From the places where Jack’s hands had taken to wandering, she was beginning to have a suspicion he’d like to make love again, which meant she needed to get up now. Because what if Emily hitched a ride home with a friend’s mother?
“I really do have to get up,” she said.
Jack groaned but admitted, “I know. I don’t have a second condom anyway.” He rolled quickly, until he was on top of her, his weight solid and sexy, kissed her softly and said, “Thank you for trusting me.”
“Don’t make me cry again.”
He laughed, smacked another kiss on her mouth and flopped to his back, letting her go.
* * *
NOW THAT HE’D found his way into Meg’s bed, the last thing he wanted to do was get out of it. But she had a kid, so there was no choice.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy watching her get dressed first. She took clean panties from a dresser drawer, but otherwise picked up clothes from the floor. As if he’d commented, she made a face at him.
“Emily will notice if I’m not wearing the same thing I was this morning.”
“Really? You think she paid any attention to what you had on?”
Meg laid his cargo pants and boxers on the bed. “Are you kidding? She scans me every morning to be sure I don’t have on something that will totally humiliate her if anybody she knows sees me.”
Jack laughed. “I thought it was parents who were supposed to make sure their daughters dressed appropriately. You know, measure the skirt length, be sure too much skin doesn’t show.”
“Oh, that would be fun.” Meg sighed. “I guess I’ve been lucky. She doesn’t try to push the limits with her wardrobe.” She stooped until all he could see was her back. “Where in heck—”
He leaned over the side of the bed. “What are you looking for?”
“A sock.” Meg’s face was flushed when she straightened.
“Ah.” He turned his head. “The back of the chair.”
“What?”
Man, he felt good. “I sent your clothes flying.”
Her chuckle was the happiest sound he’d ever heard from her. “You did, didn’t you?”
Seeing her sit down to put on her socks and a pair of sneakers, he groaned and heaved himself out of bed. “Damn it, I want to spend the night.” His apartment held no appeal.
For a second, he imagined he saw equal yearning in her eyes, but all she said was, “Well, you can’t.”
He stepped into his pants and zipped them up, then had to search for his shirt, finding it wadded beneath the sweater.
The hooked rug beside her bed was squishy and soft beneath his feet. He curled his toes into it, intrigued to see that it was the one really girlie piece of decor in her bedroom. Huge yellow, pale pink and dark pink flowers cavorted against a spring-green backdrop. Beneath a leaf, a tiny face peeked out.
Meg tossed a sock his way. “You can stay for dinner if you’d like. Although...”
When she stood up and started for the door, he dropped his boots beside the chair and sat down in it.
“Although what?”
She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. “Well, Emily will wonder.”
“You don’t think she wondered last night?”
“Yes, but two nights in a row?”
He sought for the careful thing to say. “You don’t want her to know anything is going on between us?”
“It’s not really that.” A hint of shyness had returned. “It’s just...what is going on?”
He doubted she was ready to hear how serious he was about her. And, okay, even he was a little freaked to be thinking he wanted to get in that bed with her every night and wake up with her every morning. Earn her daughter’s trust and hers. Because this was so damn fast.
Start by finding Sabra, he thought. Then see where we go from there.
“A really fine beginning.” It was the best he could come up with.
When he saw Meg’s big smile, he knew it was good enough.
* * *
“IS HE COMING to dinner again tonight?” Emily asked the next morning. She was finishing breakfast, while Meg cleared the table.
Sponge in hand, Meg laughed. “I haven’t invited him yet. Would you mind?” Would he want to come? Three nights in a row?
“I don’t know.” Emily scowled, then burst out with, “I don’t like the way he looks at you!”
Meg did. It made her melt and feel deliciously feminine when she saw that hot light in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking about—but so, apparently, did Emily. Meg had always tried to make conversations about subjects like sex as natural as when they talked about anything else. But sex in the abstract was one thing. Emily’s mom having sex? Not quite the same.
How was she supposed to approach this?
Truthfully, but only up to a point, she decided. Euphemisms were good.
“He likes me,” she said. “And I really like him. I guess he’s sort of...”
When she hesitated, Emily finished. “Your boyfriend.”
Meg shrugged apologetically.
“Cara’s mom dates.” Emily wrinkled her nose. “Sarah’s does, too. They both hate it. Cara says her mom’s boyfriend talks to her like she’s about five years old.”
“He probably hasn’t been around kids.” Poor guy.
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
Meg opened her mouth to argue that Jack treated Emily like an adult, but she saw that Emily had something else to say.
“Something happened the other day at school.”
The tale tumbled out. A mousetrap had been set in her cubby. It could easily have snapped shut on her fingers, bruising her at the very least. Ms. Guzman had been mad and was trying to find out who could have planned such a mean prank.
Apprehension dancing up her spine, Meg began, “You don’t think—”
“Think what?” Emily either didn’t have a clue or was pretending not to know what her mo
ther was talking about.
Meg glanced at the clock. “Bus will be here any minute. You need to get a move on.” She fixed a stern look at her daughter. “You also have to be careful.”
Emily sighed theatrically, but she did rise from the table and, still chewing, stuff the lunch she’d already made into her pack. Meg winced, thinking how squished the sandwich and cookies would be, but Emily must not care.
At the door, she put on a hoodie that wasn’t adequate for the weather, in Meg’s opinion, but she’d learned to keep her mouth shut.
“If you wait up,” she said, “I still haven’t grabbed the newspaper.”
There had been days when Emily would have heaved another sigh or come right out and objected. Heaven forbid anyone see her mommy walking her to the bus stop, or even the few steps to the street.
And really that wasn’t what she was doing. Exactly. Meg had lurked mornings since Jack had roused her mother-bear instincts, not happy until she knew Emily was safely on the bus. Just as she’d had an excuse every day Emily had ridden the bus home to have an eye on her from the minute she hopped onto the sidewalk. Tying up the thorny, leafless limbs of a climbing rose had taken her three afternoons.
Meg would have worried less if a larger group of kids caught the bus at their corner, but most of the children in the neighborhood were younger. One middle-school boy and a freshman girl were the only two besides Emily at the closest stop, and sometimes one or both of them weren’t there or didn’t take the bus home. They probably ran late or had after-school activities, too.
Until now, Meg hadn’t been actively worried, although she’d overheard Emily on the phone the other day, enough to suspect she was still asking questions. When Meg called her on it, Emily had wrinkled her nose and said, “I’ve run out of people to ask. Nobody knows anything.”
This morning, Meg took a sharp look up and down the street as Emily walked away, her pack bumping on her back. Mr. Nielsen, near the corner, was out getting his paper, too. He called a hello to Meg and said something to Emily as she passed. There was no traffic at all, but Meg did hear the bus coming.
Still, she stepped back behind the lattice of the arch that held the long, bare canes of the old rambler rose and waited until Emily and one other student—the boy—climbed the steps, disappearing inside the bus. She couldn’t protect Emily 24/7, but the two-block walk to and from the bus stop was one of the few times Emily was outside and alone. And, yes, the mousetrap probably was a stupid prank.
She hurried back into the house. Today was Friday, which meant garage sales. She’d already printed off the ones she’d found on Craigslist and circled the best possibilities in the local paper, the Frenchman Courier. At this time of year, there weren’t all that many sales. Once people could hold them outdoors, there’d be a lot more.
She’d be home in an hour and a half if these weren’t worthwhile; sometimes she didn’t even get out of the car. Experience let her evaluate in a quick scan whether the offerings were junk or possible treasures.
The pickings turned out to be decent, if not spectacular, so she spent part of her afternoon cutting apart and washing what wool garments she’d found. Then, keeping an eye on the clock, she sat at the kitchen table sketching out a design that had come to her during the night.
Just as she was thinking she hadn’t heard from Jack, the phone rang.
His voice was clipped when he told her something had “come up.”
“Can’t go home at five.” There was a pause. “Not that I can expect you to keep feeding me every day. I’d actually intended to suggest I take you and Emily out tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Mexican?”
“I like Mexican.” And it wouldn’t break her heart to have a night off from cooking. Her budget didn’t allow for many meals out. “Do you have just a second?”
“For you I do.” His voice had softened.
She repeated what Emily had told her about the supposed prank.
Jack was quiet for just a moment, then said, “I don’t like it.”
“It’s probably nothing, but I thought you should know. Now go to work.” She hesitated. “I miss you,” she admitted, surprising herself.
“I miss you, too,” he murmured, then was gone.
Meg sat for a minute, wondering what horror he’d had to see today. There’d been something in his voice. She couldn’t imagine how he did his job and held on to any grain of optimism.
It was another couple of hours before she surfaced. She was pleased with the design now carefully traced on Scottish linen, an expensive backing fabric she used only for one-of-a-kind rugs she expected to bring a high price. She’d sorted and chosen wool strips with which she would start tomorrow.
Emily was taking the elementary school bus home, which she occasionally did to take advantage of the extra hour and a half. She claimed she and a couple of her friends were working on a project, but Meg suspected they just wanted to hang out.
At four thirty, she stepped out on the porch, shivering involuntarily. Ugh. She could hardly wait for spring. Longer days, too—dusk was already deepening the sky. It would be full dark by five fifteen, and that was with the days lengthening.
Too chilled to stand there, she decided to walk partway to meet Emily.
The bus lumbered into sight down the street and screeched to a stop at the corner still nearly a block away. Meg kept walking. Emily was the first out, followed by half a dozen younger kids who dispersed toward their houses.
Her attention was caught when headlights came on in a big SUV Emily was passing. It was parked at the curb, not in a driveway. Funny, Meg hadn’t noticed anyone coming out of any of the houses or heard the door slam.
Emily caught sight of her and waved, walking faster. Apparently it was okay for Meg to meet her, given that only young kids were on the bus.
The sky had darkened even more since she’d started down the street. Meg could swear the SUV headlights were on high beam, which was mildly irritating. It was accelerating away from the curb, gaining speed fast.
Too fast, she thought, with sudden, oddly detached awareness. The engine had a deep-throated roar. Emily stopped and turned to look. Without conscious thought, Meg started to run.
The SUV suddenly swerved toward Emily, who froze in place. Meg reached her just as the huge vehicle jumped the curb. Blinded by the headlights, she grabbed her daughter, propelling her ahead, then shoving her as the lights became all she could see.
I won’t make it.
The hard metal lifted her in the air and sent her flying.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JACK STOOD BESIDE the medical examiner, watching as morgue workers wheeled the remains of Philip Yarnell, zipped in a body bag, down the concrete walkway leading from the house to the street. Unfortunately, they would then have to return for Philip’s wife, Denise, also deceased. The scene had suggested a murder-suicide, but Jack made a practice of remaining skeptical. He’d keep asking questions until he was satisfied he knew what really had happened. Fortunately, the scene wasn’t an outdoor one, or he’d have had to set up lights with night falling. Yeah, and the temperature, too. Tonight was going to be a cold one. Wasn’t March supposed to go out like a lamb? The lion still had claws dug in.
John Troyer had left to notify the couple’s adult son, who lived in town and managed one of his father’s car dealerships. Jack planned to knock on some neighbors’ doors himself while crime scene investigators were doing their thing.
His phone buzzed against his hip. Surprised by the caller, he excused himself to the ME and walked a few feet away, the grass crunching with frost.
“Emily?”
“Detective?” She hiccuped. “Jack? Mom’s hurt and she isn’t even conscious and I’m scared! Can you come? Please?”
Slammed by fear, he tried to keep his voice level. “Have you called nine-one-one?”
/> “Yes! They’re taking her to the hospital. They said I could ride along.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
He signaled a uniformed officer, and they met on the sidewalk.
“I need you to take over for me here until Detective Troyer gets back. The woman I’m seeing was in an accident and is unconscious and being transported to the hospital. I’ve got to go.”
Face creased with worry, Officer Sanchez only nodded.
“The ME’s estimate of time of death for the Yarnells is two to three hours ago. Start a canvass of neighbors and then stay until CSU is done in there. After that, seal the place up. No one except Troyer in or out.”
“Got it. I hope your friend is okay.”
“You and me both.” Jack paused only for a brief word with the ME, then loped for his SUV.
It wasn’t fully justified, but he used his lights anyway, clearing the road ahead. A white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he tried to imagine how she’d been hurt. A car accident after she picked Emily up at school? But speed limits in town ranged from twenty-five to a high of thirty-five. Accidents were rarely more than fender benders.
But, hell, in a head-on, the old Volkswagen, with the engine block in back, offered zero protection for driver and the passenger in the front seat.
He covered the distance in under five minutes, so he was parked in a slot saved for law enforcement officers and striding toward the emergency entrance when he saw and heard the approaching ambulance. A marked police cruiser followed right behind it.
Once the ambulance backed in, Jack circled it and showed his badge. When the EMT swung open the doors, he saw Emily first, her expression distraught. Heart clenching, he swung her down, then held her close while looking over her head into the ambulance.
Emily began to sob. He found himself rocking her slightly, as if she were a young child in need of comfort. Christ, he was in need of comfort. He couldn’t take his eyes off the gurney inside the ambulance, or the EMT bent over the patient whose face he couldn’t see. It was all he could do not to jump in and crouch at Meg’s side.
Because of a Girl Page 19