You Can Run

by David Banner

  “I was using him for his contacts,” she said, trying to keep her composure.

  “I hope it was worth it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I hope it was worth it. Its your job that’s on the line now,” he clapped back, his eyes narrowing more and more with every word.

  “You’re going to fire me?”

  “I don’t’ know, Virginia.” He shrugged angrily. “I may have to. This thing is out of my control. You’ve seen to that. I woke up to a phone call from the mayor! The mayor, Virginia! Can you imagine how embarrassed I was to find out from him that my own detective has been feeding information to a journalist with no credentials?”

  “Chief, I—”

  “I thought he was wrong. I thought he had to be. You’re the last person I’d have expected this from. I thought you knew better.” He turned to leave. “I thought you respected me more than that. But what surprised me the most was how much it hurt to be wrong.”

  “Please,” she called out behind him. “If you’ll just wait. If you’ll just—”

  “I can’t wait, Detective. I have a job to do. One that, thanks to your little games, is more complicated than it should be.”

  She watched as he climbed into his car and drove away.

  There she was, the woman who’d always fancied herself as strong and ready for anything. Only now, she found herself in unfamiliar territory. She had no idea where to go or what to do. Would the morning sunrise bring with it something worse? Would she wake to find herself alone and out of a job? Virginia turned her gaze to the sky and took a slow breath.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her how quickly sorrow turned to anger, but it did.

  She felt her teeth begin to slowly grind as she pictured his face. As she watched it play out in her mind. Had Taylor Clarke been lying to her this whole time? Had he been doing nothing more than mining her for information about the case with no intention of ever waiting?

  How could she have been so dumb? How could she have been so green to his intentions? Was her chief right? Had she let herself get lost in his good looks and easy charm? She may have had nothing to keep her busy, but she could think of one way to spend the rest of her evening. A way that may not really help anything but would hopefully go a long way in making her feel better.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  FRIDAY, 10:30 PM

  TAYLOR

  “Who is she?” Carla asked.

  “Who?” Taylor replied, his fingertips grazing the small of her back.

  He’d always found her more sexy than cute. Her long, slim features and dark hair reminded him of the kind of beauty normally seen on a magazine rather than in real life. She was kind, though, the type of kindness that can only be genuine, the kindness that comes from a lifetime of hardship and struggle.

  Like him, Carla had grown up in a small town near the mountains, only for her, it was Tennessee she called home, not Kentucky. Still, a Southern girl is a Southern girl, and Carla always seemed to know just what to say to make him feel right.

  “The woman. I saw you talking with her a couple of times. She was here the other day. Dark hair, good body, nice smile. You looked good together.”

  “How did you know she was here?” Taylor asked.

  “I saw her . . . from the street. I was going to stop by, but . . .”

  “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  “Maybe,” she answered, burying her face a little deeper into the pillow. “My dad died a little over a week ago. I went back to Whitwell for a while.”

  “I’m sorry.” Taylor wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in a little tighter, her naked body pressing against his.

  He’d always found something so comforting in the warmth of another person. It was the kind of feeling he simply couldn’t find anywhere else, and in the moment, it was exactly what he needed. He took a long, slow breath, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Cherry bark and almond . . . he’d asked her about it once before. She told him it was one of the luxuries she allowed herself to splurge on, even while saving every penny she could for a rainy day.

  Most city folks don’t think of things like that, Taylor thought. But in the mountains where winter runs a little deeper and lasts a little longer, it was only sensible to prepare for the worst. There was a familiarity in the woman that gave him a sense of peace, though no matter how much he tried to convince himself she was perfect, they just didn’t seem to fit.

  She knew it, too, or at least he thought she did.

  “Do you ever think about home?” she asked, her voice carrying lightly across the dark room.

  “Every day.” He smiled. “Every time I drink whiskey, I think of the mountains. I don’t know that I miss it, but I remember it. What about you?”

  “I try not to,” she answered, running her fingers lightly across the back of his hand. “But everything I see reminds me of that place. Sometimes, I feel like it’s trying to call me back. Like I shouldn’t have left in the first place. Its silly, I know, but sometimes—“

  A loud knock sliced through the nearly still air of Taylor’s apartment. He shot up in bed, his heart suddenly pumping like a well. He scrambled to his feet and slid on a pair of black boxers then headed for the door. The thunderous knocking continued, shaking the door and rattling the walls.

  “Hello?” he said, grabbing a glass decanter and raising it above his head.

  “Open the damn door, Taylor!” he heard Virginia call out from the other side. “Now!”

  “Virginia,” he answered, looking back at Carla as she leapt to her feet and slid a pair of faded jeans on.

  “Go ahead . . .” Carla whispered, closing the bedroom door.

  “Vee,” Taylor opened the door. “What—”

  “Don’t call me that.” She marched past him. “What the hell were you thinking, Taylor? What the hell?”

  He’d never seen her so angry, though honestly, he wasn’t too surprised by it. He would have been more surprised if she hadn’t barged in, though she could have chosen a better time. Perhaps one that didn’t have a half-naked woman hiding in his bedroom.

  “I had no choice,” he said, trying to remain as calm as possible. “Our investigation was dead. There was nothing else I could do.”

  “You could have waited a damn second! You could have talked to me before you went behind my back and published an article that may very well cost me my job. You could have done that!”

  “Cost you your job?” He stumbled over the words. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you. About the fact that I partnered with a journalist behind my boss’s back. I’m talking about that fact that the whole city now knows I went rogue and kept information from the rest of the force. I’m talking about this. This mistake!”

  “Don’t call me a mistake,” Taylor snapped.

  It was a phrase he’d always hated. One that had haunted him since his early days on the football team. Even in his youth, the young journalist found himself prone to trying too much, to biting off more than he could chew. Each time, someone referred to his actions as nothing more than a mistake, no matter how much he’d learned along the way.

  “What would you call it, Taylor?” she asked, her face flushing red with rage. “If not a mistake, then what would you call it?”

  “I’d call it a partnership. One that got messed up along the way.”

  “You lied to me!” Her words washed over him like an assault. “You’ve used our time as nothing more than a way to mine information. You published it all without telling me. You never had any intention of waiting.”

  “Yes, I did,” he answered, feeling rage beginning to form inside him. “You don’t get to tell me what I was thinking, what I was planning. I was going to wait. I wasn’t lying. But now, I’m glad I published the damn thing. I’m glad I did what I did.”

  “What you did was lie. I thought you were better than that. I thought we were . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I thought
. . .”

  “What?” he snapped. “What did you think? Tell me.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She headed for the door. “It is what it is, and we are where we are.”

  “And where is that?” He stepped closer, his face only inches from hers. “Where are we now?”

  He tasted the sweet warmth of her mouth as he pressed his lips against hers. She was soft and intoxicating like a dark fruit. He placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her in closer, his lips searching hers for a sense of true companionship. He hadn’t planned this, nor had he seen it coming. It just happened, and he hoped it wouldn’t stop.

  “What was that?” She pulled away, her head turning toward his bedroom.

  “Wait—” He tried to stop her as she marched toward the door and pulled it open.

  He watched it all play out as though it were a slow-motion movie. Light poured into his bedroom and washed over Carla, illuminating her in a haze of truth. Virginia turned back to him, her eyes locking with his.

  “Don’t contact me again, Taylor,” she said, the anger dissipating from her tone. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me.”

  He felt his heart drop as she disappeared down the hallway. He thought about calling after her, about trying to stop her or telling her he was sorry. It wouldn’t do any good, though. He knew that. Virginia was gone and he wouldn’t be able to get her back.

  “I’m sorry,” Carla said. “I hit my foot against the dresser and knocked over a glass. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay,” Taylor replied, his eyes resting on the girl he’d found so much comfort in only minutes before.

  “I should probably go,” she said, scooping up her shoes and walking past him.

  “Wait,” he said. “You don’t have . . . you can stay.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Carla kissed his cheek. “Don’t let it end like that with her. You’ll regret it, believe me.”

  “It’s over. She isn’t coming back.”

  “Then go find her.” Carla smiled sweetly. “You’ll regret the chances you didn’t take, not the mistakes you made.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SUNDAY, 11 AM

  VIRGINIA

  Victoria Stanhope was last seen leaving a small boutique just off Abercorn Rd. She wore yellow trench coat tied at the waist with designer pumps and a brand-new handbag. At least, that’s the way the store clerk described her the last time she’d been interviewed.

  After a year and a half of fruitless searching, the case had gone cold. The file had been sitting at the top of her desk since first joining the police force, but with no new leads, no new witnesses, and a general dislike for cold cases, Virginia Nixon hadn’t paid it much attention.

  That is, until Jacob Hindle suggested that she give it a fresh look to take her mind off the Connie & Clyde case that had nearly cost the woman her job. It wasn’t anything she really cared about, but with nothing else to do and the FBI still holding fort in the meeting room across from her office, she wasn’t really in a position to say much.

  Her eyes scanned the files. There was nothing new, nothing to keep her attention or spark her interest. After finding herself drifting off into thought more times than she cared to count, the detective stood from her desk and headed for the door. As she exited her office, she took a momentary pause, listening in on her former investigation.

  Her eyes met those of an FBI agent she hadn’t formally met as he caught sight of her and closed the door. It was obvious to everyone that she wasn’t welcome anywhere near the active case. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ears and headed for the break room at the end of the hall.

  Chief Hindle entered the room behind her. “You’ve got to keep clear of those guys, Vee.”

  “Remember you’re on thin ice here, and so am I. We don’t need to go ruffling any feathers.”

  “I wasn’t trying to—”

  “I get it,” he said. “It’s hard.”

  “It’s more than that. This is my case. These are my leads, my victims. I can’t just let it all go.”

  “Well, you can’t go poking around,” he huffed.

  He was right and she knew that. Still, she knew herself well enough to know that nothing was going to keep the case out of her mind. She was going to think about Connie and Clyde no matter what happened, and unless this world came to an end at her feet, nothing was going to stop her from doing what she still viewed as her job.

  “Okay.” She sighed. “At least tell me if they’ve gotten any closer.”

  Chief Hindle looked at her. She wasn’t sure he believed her, but honestly, she really didn’t care. She just needed the information. She just needed to know what they knew.

  “They failed,” Jacob said. “Connie and Clyde. They broke into a house and attempted to kill the guy, but he managed to fight them off long enough for the police to get there.”

  It was an amazing bit of news. This was the first time the killer duo had made a misstep. Sure, Connie left behind one witness, but that was purposeful. This was something else. This was a mistake. This might be just the thing she needed. Virginia felt her heart begin to race. She was finally a few steps closer. All she needed to do now was find the victim and speak to him.

  “Any ID on the vic?” she asked.

  “I don’t know much about it, honestly,” the chief answered. “And I don’t want you getting any idea, either. You stay away from this. Got it?”

  “Don’t worry,” she lied. “I’m good.”

  “What about the Stanhope case? The one I told you to work on. Any leads?”

  They both knew the truth. Chief Hindle knew she hadn’t put forth much effort in the way of the old case. Still, he had to ask. They had to play the game. The best the man could hope for was that something else would come along to distract the detective. Something to keep her away from Connie and Clyde, though he likely knew there was little chance of that.

  “Nothing yet,” Virginia answered, pouring herself a cup of some of the worst coffee she had ever tried to choke down. “I’ve told you to get something decent in here. This isn’t even coffee.”

  “Says coffee on the package,” Jacob replied. “It all tastes the same, anyway. Burnt beans.”

  “Right . . .” she said, taking one more swallow before giving up and pouring it down the sink. “I’m gonna head out and get something fit for human consumption. Can I get you anything?”

  “No,” he replied. “I’m good. And Vee, stay away from—”

  “I got it.” She headed for the elevator.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  SUNDAY, 1 PM

  TAYLOR

  Taylor stared at his phone, looking down at the invitation and trying his best to be happy about it. It was exactly what he’d hoped for, an invitation to appear on a nightly national news program with Terry Grossman, one of Fox News’s most popular anchors. But no matter how he tried to convince himself of his victory, something just didn’t feel right.

  He couldn’t help but feel as though he’d cheated in some way. That he’d gone about this the wrong way, only to hurt his friend and endanger her job. He flicked through the sea of emails, each one tossing out another theory, each one quoting his news story about the nationally famous killer couple, yet still, a cloud of failure hovered above him.

  He needed to fix this the only way he knew how to. He needed to speak with Patrick Maynor.

  He slid the phone in his pocket and looked up the tall building. The last time he’d come here had ended with his being asked to leave with no more information than he’d arrived with. He hesitated, wondering what would make this time different, wondering what he could say to convince Patrick to speak with him.

  His mind came up blank.

  It was almost as though his feet began marching without his permission, taking him ever closer to the door of Miller, Maynor, & Mont. A shock of cold ran up his arm as his hand wrapped the large metal door handle. He pulled it toward him and stepped inside.

/>   “Taylor Clarke to see Mr. Maynor,” he said to the receptionist.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but he’s gonna want to hear this.” He narrowed his eyes and focused in on the young woman.

  “Please have a seat. I’ll see if Mr. Maynor is available.” She reached for the phone.

  A few short minutes were all that passed before a second assistant came marching down the stairs and asked Taylor to follow her. He ascended the stairs just as he had once before, only this time, he was alone. He missed the confidence he felt with Virginia Clarke at his side. He missed the sense of authority and power she emoted with every step.

  Now he was alone, headed toward what may very well be a dangerous man with a yet to be discovered connection to two killers. He had no idea what he was going to say or how Patrick would react. He only knew he needed to fix this, that this was the only chance he had at getting close to Virginia.

  “Mr. Clarke,” Patrick said from his desk. “You’re one of the last people I expected to see.”

  “I can see that,” Taylor replied, taking a seat in the brown leather chair at his desk.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me why you’re here and what it is I’m going to want to hear? Or were those just empty words to get you past the door?”

  The answer was obvious. Taylor had nothing to say, no new information to offer. The only thing he had at his side was the truth. The truth of what the investigation had uncovered and the truth of the mistakes he’d made publishing his article.

  “I wanted to apologize to you,” began the Kentucky native. “I wasn’t thinking clearly when I published that article. I was upset and angry. I shouldn’t have called you out like that.”

  “My lawyer tells me I should sue you.”

  “Go ahead.” Taylor sighed. “Though I doubt you’ll get much. I’m a waiter by day and an amateur journalist by night.”

  “Not so amateur anymore, though. I hear you’re getting all sorts of offers now. The way I see it, if I bide my time right, I may be able to get something from you yet.”