Three Seconds To Rush (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 1)

by Danielle Stewart

  “He doesn’t look at the same things I do. He’s not a mother. I’ll be honest, after hearing what he had to say I was worried about you. I decided I’d wait to see what you were doing when I got here. If all the theories and all the worries and charges against you were true, then this rock bottom would surely flush them out. You’d have a needle in your arm or maybe too many pills in your stomach as you gave up on the bathroom floor. But you were doing what I’d be doing. My house is never cleaner than when I’m hurt or mad. I once washed the floor so angrily that I snapped the mop right in half by accident. I think it’s because when everything feels out of control we try to rein in all the little pieces of our lives that we can actually do something about. So I get this,” she said, gesturing over at the throw rugs Tara was still hugging.

  “Why can’t he?” she asked, sniffling a little but then instantly righting herself. Tara refused to shed a tear about Reid’s reaction. It was energy she couldn’t afford to give away.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met Reid?” Willow asked, grabbing the crayons off the floor and organizing them back into the box carefully.

  “No,” Tara remarked thoughtfully, realizing it hadn’t come up. Reid didn’t seem connected to anyone or anything, but he was close with Willow and Josh. Tara had assumed it had been some kind of work relationship that had morphed into friendship, although it looked like Josh and Willow did most of the heavy lifting there.

  “I was in the courthouse in New York, waiting for a meeting with a lawyer about a conviction he felt needed a second look. It was a Monday, and the place was so overcrowded that the news actually took a few minutes to spread. There was a man with a gun in the large cathedral-ceilinged room with us. He strode to the front bench and told everyone to sit down. Slowly people obliged, taking spots on the floor, against walls, anywhere they could. The man said his name was Mike. Aside from the gun, he looked average. I remember thinking he must be a mailman or bank teller; that was the kind of look he had. After a bit of demanding, everyone shut up, and the room was finally silent. Mike broke into sobs, angry bubbling cries about how his wife and two daughters had been killed by a drunk driver, who’d been in that courtroom the day before. He had walked free because of a technicality uncovered by the defense attorney. Mike was furious. The system had failed him, and he was ready to die, to see others die, in order to even the score.”

  “That must have been terrifying,” Tara gasped, shoving the rugs in a bag for the laundromat. “Did he hurt anyone?”

  “People were crying and begging for their lives. I kept thinking about my kids and Josh and how they’d get on without me. I really thought we wouldn’t make it out of there. But all of a sudden this man, who I presumed was a lawyer, judging by his suit and neatly styled hair, walked right up to Mike. The gun was pointed at his chest, right at his heart, but the man didn’t flinch. I could see his face, and he was smiling. They exchanged some words but nothing I could make out. Until the lawyer asked Mike what his wife’s and daughters’ names were. Mike broke down again, not with anger this time but sadness. He uttered their names: Jennifer, Holly, and Chelsea. I’ll never forget those names. And upon saying them, it was like Mike woke up, remembering that his family would not want him to hurt innocent people in their name. After a couple of requests from the lawyer, Mike handed the gun over and fell to the floor.”

  “That’s incredible,” Tara said, grabbing a stack of tattered baby books and putting them on the toy box. She watched Willow’s face grow somber as though that sad commentary she’d told wasn’t the real tragedy of it all.

  “Everyone wanted to talk to the lawyer afterward, to thank him and hug him, but I could tell from across the room that wasn’t what he wanted. So I left . . . ran, quite literally, home to my family and sobbed. A couple of days later I ran into the lawyer in the cafeteria, and we joked about how terrible the coffee was considering it was seven dollars. He introduced himself as Reid Holliston and told me he was there for only a week, working out details of a case he had in Boston. Considering I wouldn’t likely be running into him again, I took the opportunity to thank him. I told him I was in the room that day and appreciated what he’d done. But, because I never really know how to deal with people, I also told him he was stupid. He could have been killed that day, and a look crossed his face that I will never forget.” Willow was stark white now, clutching the box of crayons in her hands and staring off so she could better remember the details.

  “What kind of look did Reid give you?”

  “I bet a thousand people could have watched him and missed it. But I’m kind of an expert on damaged people. I’ve loved them, lived with them, and run away from all sorts of them. So when I told him he could have been killed, he looked at me with disappointment that he hadn’t been, and I recognized it instantly. If fate hadn’t stepped in, there was a good chance I’d have let him walk away. But his phone rang. I stood there with him and grabbed his coffee as his hand began to shake so much he couldn’t hold it anymore. Apparently his business card had been found on a man who’d just jumped from the roof of the courthouse to his death.”

  “Mike?” Tara asked, her heart aching for all involved, but especially Reid.

  “Yes. Reid had given him his card and said to call him if there was anything he could do. He was the one who’d kept the man out of jail, and he only had to spend a couple nights in the hospital being evaluated. Then he was dead, and Reid was frozen. I took his phone and hung it up when it was clear there was no more to say. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I got him to my car and took him home the way you’d rescue a stray dog off the highway before it’s hit and killed. Josh, who should have been surprised by the unexpected company, was surprisingly welcoming once I quietly explained the situation.”

  “What did Reid do at your house? I mean did he stay?”

  “For a while he acted like he was all right. He ate dinner with us. He had a glass of wine and sat by the fire Josh built while I put the kids to bed. By the time I came back downstairs Reid and Josh were talking like they’d known each other for a lifetime. That’s how Josh is. I think that’s why he helps so many addicts. He doesn’t believe in the theory that you have to hit rock bottom before you get help. Everyone, in every phase of their life, is worthy of help and a listening ear according to my husband.”

  “And Reid talked about what? I feel like he’s so closed off now. I can’t imagine what he’d have to say. I wish I knew.”

  “That night he talked about his job as a defense attorney, and how it was crushing him. He’d walked up to Mike that day in the courtroom, gun to his chest, because it wasn’t very long ago that he’d worked to get a reduced sentence for a woman who was drunk driving and killed an elderly couple in Boston. Reid admitted that a part of him thought if Mike had killed him it would complete some karma or something that he’d deserved.”

  “Why does Reid still do this job if he hates it so much? I knew from the first time I met with him at the courthouse that he was miserable.”

  “I can’t answer that,” Willow admitted, but she couldn’t hold back her opinion. “Part of the problem is he is very good at his job. Effective. But I also think he was waiting to make the change until he could go out on a good note.”

  “Doesn’t he win plenty of cases?”

  “I think he wanted a truly innocent person to defend,” Willow smirked. “In his career he’s had people claim innocence or ignorance, and every time in one way or another he’s been disappointed. Reid has worked to set some people free, and they immediately reoffend. I think he wanted to remember it all in a better light. He was waiting, holding out.”

  “I think today was that moment for him with me,” Tara said, distracting herself with the task of stacking stuffed animals in the corner of the room. “For a minute I felt like he had faith in me, and then it was all snuffed out. I can see why that would have affected him so much.”

  “He slept at our house that night.” Willow laughed. “We never offered, he n
ever asked, we just gave him a pillow and some blankets for the couch and he stayed. When we got up the next day he was gone, and we thought that would probably be the last we saw him since he was headed to Boston. A couple weeks later he reached out to me, wanting to know more about what I do. How exactly I was helping to reopen old cases and investigate crimes where the investigations weren’t thorough. We met for coffee, and before I knew it Reid was a part of our lives and we were a part of his. The distance is what saves him from feeling too committed to us. The five-hour drive between us means I’m not likely to pop in at his house unexpectedly too often, and he’s not supposed to show up for the kids’ school plays. We’ve figured out how to love him and how to appreciate the way he loves us back.”

  “How in the world did he get so complicated? He was just a kindhearted jock with a gorgeous head of hair when I knew him.”

  “I have a feeling that’s not all he was, even back then. I don’t know exactly why Reid is the way he is or when it all started. But I do know that since you showed up, I’ve seen parts of him, pieces of his heart, I’ve never seen before. I want Reid to be happy, and I feel like you are a part of that equation. Selfishly, I don’t want you dropping out of his life right now. I don’t want you to leave it the way it is. He thinks the same old thing that always happens has. The glimmer of hope that you might be worth all the effort he can muster, every inch of himself, was a gamble he hadn’t taken in a while.”

  “I know I’m not perfect,” Tara admitted, patting the enormous pile of laundry in the basket by her feet. “He wasn’t wrong about everything today.”

  “You need help, Tara. You need a plan. But that doesn’t mean someone else should get your child just because you’re struggling. Reid can’t see that yet, but I think he’ll come around.”

  “He doesn’t have time to come around,” Tara said somberly, realizing how few days remained for them to pull all of this together.

  “You’re right,” Willow agreed, making Tara feel even worse. “That’s why you might need to come around first.” She looked at Tara knowingly and smiled.

  “I hear you,” Tara agreed, finally for the first time today smiling herself.

  “Now grab a few more rags and let’s clean until we feel better,” Willow instructed, taking another quick inventory of the apartment. “I’ve never met a juice stain I can’t get rid of.”

  Tara tilted her head to the side and appraised Willow curiously. “You are a very interesting woman, Willow. How exactly did you become all these things? Strong, insightful, funny, and maternal. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with so many unique characteristics all embodied in one person. What’s your secret?”

  “I’m the product of many women who wouldn’t stop giving me advice,” Willow teased. “Even when I didn’t want it, even when I fought them, they kept giving. I basically ran away to North Carolina and dropped out of college. On paper that should have been the biggest mistake of my life. In reality, it made me the woman I am today because the people who saved me down there were relentless. Bold, loud, unapologetic huggers who told me two things: I love you, and you’re being stupid. I’d heard each of those things before. I just hadn’t realized until I met them that those ideas could exist in tandem. You could be loved and screw up all at once. That allowed me to lay some bricks in my own foundation and keep building until I found myself.”

  “And now you have?” Tara asked, sort of enviously, wishing she knew what it was like to be exactly where she was meant to be, doing something she loved.

  “Hell no,” Willow laughed. “I’m still building. But I go to Edenville whenever I want and remind myself I’m loved and dumb.”

  “I’d like to live there,” Tara said, closing her eyes and imagining a fresh start. “That’ll never happen.”

  “You never know what tomorrow will bring. If you ever decide to go down south, I’ve got a restaurant you should check out. The Wise Owl. Best pie in the state and it comes with free unsolicited advice about everything in your life.”

  “If I get through today,” Tara admitted, drawing in a deep breath, “maybe I’ll think about tomorrow.”

  Chapter 27

  The apartment wasn’t clean. Not for a lack of effort on Tara and Willow’s part. The bones of the place were too disgusting to make it shine. It would have taken paint and a remodel, no, probably dynamite to really help the place. But at least the result of two women doing angry cleaning had it smelling fresh with clean laundry. Willow had helped Tara lug everything back upstairs from the laundromat and put it away before she left to spend some time with her kids. Being alone in her apartment again only reminded Tara how much she hated the quiet.

  If she had felt like the idea of help, of friendship, had been elusive and hard to define, today would have been the perfect example of how it could change her life for the better. On a bad day, a terribly disastrous day, a knock on the door had made a fraction of a difference. While it didn’t fix everything it still meant a lot.

  There was another tap, but this time it wasn’t on the door. It came from the back of the apartment. Somewhere by her bedroom. It was light but incessant. A steady stream of taps that drew her to them. Were the rats back? No, rats didn’t make that kind of noise. Theirs were scratchier and sporadic.

  “Hello,” she called nervously as she approached her half open bedroom door. It wasn’t as though she expected someone to answer. Whatever was knocking on her wall surely didn’t speak, but somehow she hoped her words would scare it off.

  Tara thought about grabbing the broom, to arm herself in some way, but it was too late. She was already pushing in the creaky bedroom door with the old metal doorknob. It didn’t open fully, stopping well before it should as though something had fallen behind it. She pushed a little harder but it didn’t give way.

  She considered slamming it shut and leaving the problem, whatever it was, locked in her room for the night. Grasping the knob firmly to shut it in a hurry, her plan was suddenly interrupted. A large dirty hand reached around the door and grabbed hold of her hair. She shrieked, still picturing some kind of beast, some rogue animal mutated after years of living in the sewer.

  Logic returned quickly as a potent smell reached her nose. The musk was strong and unfamiliar. Stale smoke and spilled liquor were poorly masked with cheap cologne. Knowing this wasn’t a monster, but a man, she began to fight. More screams, scratches at the hand that soon became an arm and then a whole body. But her effort was futile.

  Dante Yule.

  He’d looked smaller at the park where they had watched him. As he pulled her into the room and threw her onto the bed, he seemed gigantic. “Stop,” she yelled again as though the word meant something. Surely he wasn’t just waiting to be told not to do this.

  “Quiet,” he hissed, pushing a finger over his stained, exposed teeth. “If you scream again, I’ll have to quiet you.” He made a slashing motion across his neck with the knife in his hand. It was one from her kitchen.

  “What do you want?” she begged in a whisper, inching her way up to the headboard of her bed. “Money? Do you want money?”

  “I have money,” he laughed, maybe at the irony of how poor he looked for a man gloating about money. “You wouldn’t think so, but I’ve got money. And I want to keep it.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I knew TJ,” he said, his face completely flat now, the maniacal smile wiped away by the memory. “You don’t remember me because you never came around for the fun.”

  “Please, TJ is dead. I don’t have any drugs. I don’t have anything of his if that’s what you’re looking for.” She folded her hands in a pleading way and forced herself not to cry. Tears wouldn’t help, she could see he didn’t care.

  “He was my friend, you know,” Dante said matter-of-factly as though commenting on an old colleague. “TJ came through for me every time. But I sold him out for a chunk of cash. A big chunk, but still, that’s shitty, right?”

  “No,” Tara coughed out. “No
it’s not. I’m sure you had a reason to do it. TJ would understand.”

  “Ah,” Dante started, crumpling his face up as though she were ridiculous. “No, trust me, this is screwed up shit. He would not have understood. It’s seriously the worst. But some of us are put on this earth to be the worst. Know what I mean?” Dante moved closer to her, a small step and then a few very quick ones until he was standing at the edge of the bed staring at her.

  “Everyone has some good in them,” Tara pleaded. “You don’t have to do bad things if you don’t want to.”

  “That’s how I felt,” he said, wide-eyed as though they’d just had this profound moment of connection. “That’s why I called the ambulance. You were so messed up. I was high too but, like, for a second I just saw you, and I felt stone sober. Like out of body shit.”

  “You were there?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “You gave me the drugs? Why would you do that? Why don’t I remember?”

  “The same reason you won’t remember this,” he said, yanking a cloth from his pocket with his free hand. “Chloroform.” He grinned as though he were some kind of genius who’d invented the potent chemical.

  “Stop, please. I don’t understand why you are doing this. You don’t have to.”

  “The world is dirty,” he said, looking angry again. “It has to be cleansed. It has to be rid of all the scum who inhabit it.”

  “I’m not scum,” she pleaded as he inched closer with the rag. “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he said simply. “You are scum. TJ was too.”

  He clutched the rag so tightly she saw his knuckles going white. She pushed herself as hard as she could against the wall and searched her mind for a way out. Dante was bigger. He was armed. And he was high, likely giving him a threshold for pain that she couldn’t compete with.

  “Wylie,” she whispered wanting her last thoughts to be of him. She’d failed him.