Del glared at them, and everyone returned to their beers. He turned back to Allie. “Hey, I know how you feel. Well, I don’t know, but if you feel that way, I know you’re right. You know what I mean?”
Allie reached over and touched his arm. “Yes, I do. You’re loyal and trusting and Sheryl’s lucky to have you.”
He squirmed. “Except that she doesn’t seem to want me. Not lately, anyway.” He stared into the beer cooler for a long moment. “So, what are you going to do?”
“About what?”
Del grinned. “About your brother.” His grin vanished. “I don’t figure you can do anything about Sheryl.”
Allie felt bad for him, but Del was right. She couldn’t do a thing about Sheryl. “I’m going to ignore him until he goes away. He can’t stay here forever. He has a thriving law practice in Atlanta. Mother won’t let him be gone for long, and wimp that he is, he’ll go running the minute she calls. I’m sure the only reason she let him come down here is because she was sure he could convince me to sell if he steamrolled me in person. But it isn’t going to work. My days of being intimidated are over. From now on, I call the shots.”
Again, her voice had risen, and she was getting some pointed looks. A couple of guys shook their heads and turned away. Even Del looked uncomfortable. Obviously, she wasn’t fit to be in public. She pulled out her wallet to pay.
“Why don’t you let me wrap these up?” Del asked, gesturing at the fries. “You can take them with you.”
Allie shook her head. “You eat them, Del. I don’t think I’m going to have much appetite for a while.”
As she slid off the barstool and headed to the door, it swung open. Allie took a long step back when she saw who it was.
Six
Her breath caught in her throat. “Marc.” Allie’s voice came out a squeak. Marc Frederick. Her ex-boyfriend. Standing in the doorway, framed by the afternoon sun, he reminded Allie of one thing that drew her to him in the beginning—the man resembled an apparition from Mount Olympus, with his white blonde hair and tanned skin. Single. Successful. Overprotective.
They had a complicated history. A year before, Marc had saved her life. Allie would always feel gratitude for that. Lust between them was never in question. A hot affair ensued, one that showed Allie what she’d missed during the years with her ex-husband, Garrison. Allie was satisfied with what she and Marc shared. After her divorce, she wasn’t ready to jump into another skillet, but Marc wanted more, like love and marriage. But as he kept telling her, he was a patient man; and so he was for six long months, until she almost died trying to prove the sheriff hadn’t murdered his wife.
Sidney Finch thought she was attempting to railroad the sheriff, and he appointed himself executioner to make sure she didn’t succeed. After he shot out her tire and almost ran her off the 520-Causeway bridge, Marc made the mistake of telling Allie she brought it all on herself, the same words her mother used.
Six months ago on his last visit from Miami, Marc issued an ultimatum: “Quit your job and marry me, or it’s over.” Allie didn’t do well with ultimatums. She called his bluff, and that was the last she saw of him. Until now.
Now, he stood in front of her. She knew it couldn’t be coincidence. Marc knew Allie and Sheryl came here often. If he wanted to avoid her, he’d have picked another place to drink.
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t speak. He stared at her as if he were drinking in every detail. After a long moment, he reached out as if to touch her face. At the last moment, his hand drew back. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”
Allie was aware that every eye in the bar was on them. She turned and retraced her tracks; only this time, she led Marc to a booth at the back of the room. Even before they were seated, Del was there.
He looked at Allie, his expression full of meaning. “You OK here?”
Allie nodded.
Del relaxed marginally. “What can I get you folks?” he asked, wiping the already clean table.
“Nothing,” Allie said just as Marc said, “Two Cokes.” Del looked at Allie, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.
When he was gone, Marc reached over and took Allie’s hand. She pulled it away. “I didn’t think I’d see you again after your last visit.”
A sad smile played across Marc’s lips. “No, Allie. I didn’t think. I didn’t think what I would lose when I tried to set the rules. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’ve missed you.” The words poured from him as if he were anxious to get them all said before she could stop him. He reached over again for her hand.
Allie tucked it under the table. “It took you an awfully long time to realize it.”
Marc sat back. “No, it didn’t. I knew the day I drove out of here that I’d made a mistake. I missed you even before your house was out of sight in my rearview mirror.” He leaned toward her, elbows on the table, his face earnest. “I had some heavy thinking to do, Allie. Remember what I said? That I had to decide what I could live with and you had to decide what you could live without. I really thought you got some kind of kick out of the excitement of going after bad guys.”
He shook his head. “But you were right. You didn’t bring a damn bit of that on yourself.” He scowled. “Once I thought about it, I knew I was an idiot. I was an idiot to give you a take-it-or-leave-it. I know what a bad time you had with your husband. You didn’t need the same kind of thing from me.”
She could barely take her eyes off him, remembering the days and nights they’d spent together. Pure bliss, which is why it was so difficult when he walked away without a backward glance. Why should she believe it was any different now? When the next assignment threw her in danger’s path, would he walk away again? Was she willing to take that chance? And what about Rand? The thought chilled her.
Marc stretched across the table, as close as he could get without touching her. “What do you say, Allie? Will you forgive me? Will you give us another chance? I know I was wrong. I’ll never try to push you again.”
Pretty words, but could he keep that vow? Did she even want him to?
Marc must have noticed something. He sat back. “Unless there’s someone else. Is that it, Allie? Are you seeing someone else?”
“No.” It was an honest answer, but it didn’t feel honest. “Marc, I—I—” She cleared her throat and began again. “I don’t know how the last six months have been for you, but they were hard for me. I—”
“Allie—”
She held up a hand. “Let me finish. Please.” He nodded, and she continued. “When you walked out of my life, I was crushed. I had lost my marriage, my aunt, and my friend Joe. Then, you. The one thing that could have been prevented was you, but you chose to walk away. At first, I just felt betrayed. You couldn’t accept who I was, so you left. Then, I began to question our feelings for each other. Could you really love me and want to marry me and walk away at that time in my life?”
“I didn’t understand—”
“No, Marc. That’s not the only thing I asked myself.”
He watched her steadily.
“I had to wonder whether I could refuse to change something as simple as my profession if I truly loved you.”
Marc averted his eyes. Finally, he looked back at her. “And what did you decide?”
“I didn’t. I don’t have any answers.” She laughed uncomfortably. “The jury is still out. I don’t want to change professions, and not because I get high on danger. I hate danger, but it’s part of what I do. Sometimes, I choose to put myself in risky positions to get to the truth, and sometimes, that makes people mad. That’s just the way it is.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do. I’m not a shapeshifter, Marc. I can’t turn myself into something you want in order to please you. Does that mean I don’t love you? I don’t know, but until I figure it out, well…” She spread her hands.
She knew him well enough to know how much her words hurt him. They hurt her, too, but she wouldn’t
take them back.
“Life is too short to compromise like that, Allie. Stick to your guns.”
“You think I’m right to send Marc away?”
“I think you’re right to put yourself and your feelings first.”
“What if things don’t work out with Rand? What if I lose them both?”
“Then, neither is the right one for you.”
“That’s pretty fatalistic, don’t you think?”
“I think you owe yourself the best. That’s what you deserve.”
“Allie?”
She could tell he’d said it more than once.
“Where were you?”
She shook her head to clear it. “Nowhere. Here. Thinking.”
“About us?”
“About—” She broke off, feeling someone at her elbow. She looked up and received the third shock of her day.
Sheriff Cord Arbutten stood beside her dressed in uniform, right down to the gun at his hip. “Allie,” he said. Then, he nodded at Marc.
“Sheriff.” Marc didn’t offer his hand. He and the sheriff had never been comfortable with each other.
“Allie, may I have a minute of your time?”
Before she could answer, Del materialized. “Everything all right here, folks?” Del had been protective since the night Joe, in full uniform, had all but dragged her out of the bar, ostensibly to protect Allie from Sheryl and herself. Apparently, Del remembered too.
“Everything is fine, Del. Del Delaney, this is Sheriff Cord Arbutten. Sheryl’s boss,” she added pointedly.
Del’s demeanor changed immediately, but not in the manner Allie expected. Del went white. “Has something happened? Is she OK?”
Cord blinked twice, and Allie would bet money he knew the whole scenario in the time it took to blink the first time. “Delaney.” He nodded. “This doesn’t concern Levine. As far as I know, she’s fine.”
Del took a step back and shrugged. “Hey, I was just worried.” After a minute, he moved away.
Marc stood. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”
The sheriff motioned him back down. “You might want to hear this too.”
He pulled over a chair from a nearby table and sat. “I’ve had some bad news this afternoon, Allie,” he began.
Allie felt the blood rush from her head. Had something happened to her mother or father?
He cleared his throat. “We got word that Sidney Finch escaped during a routine transport from Polk Correctional to the courthouse. He overcame two armed guards while at a rest area near Cocoa and vanished about five miles north of the Beeline.” The Beeline was Highway 528, connecting Cocoa to Cape Canaveral.
“I thought he was in the hospital,” she managed.
Cord nodded. “He was until a few weeks ago. They moved him to protective custody in the psychiatric facility.”
Allie couldn’t help it; her gaze went to the door.
“We’re pretty sure he’s headed out of state. He took what cash the guards had on them. Not much, but maybe enough to buy him a bus ticket somewhere. He’s not likely to stay around here. He knows what will happen to him if he’s caught.”
So did Allie. In Sidney’s misguided attempt to protect the Sheriff from Allie, Sidney had wounded the man, a minor injury, but the other deputies knew Sidney had fired the shot. They wouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt if they caught him.
“I’m headed over to talk to his parents,” Cord said to Allie. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I felt I ought to let you know. I think if he’d be gunning for anyone, it would be Levine.”
Del appeared beside them. He must have been hovering close enough to hear every word. “Does she know?”
Cord didn’t appear surprised. “It was on the radio, and it’ll be in the daily bulletin. She’s not likely to miss it. Don’t worry,” Cord said. “Levine knows how to take care of herself.”
■ ■ ■
Sheryl lay on the precinct bathroom floor, spent and exhausted. God, what was wrong with her? She felt like she was dying—the violent bouts of nausea, the exhaustion, and it was getting worse. Had she poisoned herself, somehow? For weeks? Ridiculous. She’d never been sick a day in her life.
OK, there was the time she challenged a few guys to a beer-and-shot contest and heaved her guts out for two days afterward, but she won, damn it. And there was a reason for that sickness—alcohol poisoning, pure and simple. This was a fucking mystery. Fine one minute and on her knees the next.
How could she work like this? Jesus, if she went to the doctor, it’d be all over the department. Maybe she should see a doctor in Orlando. She had to use her real name—they checked photo IDs these days—but she could make her profession housewife or something. Waitress. Hairdresser. What the hell ever.
She heard the ladies’ room door squeak open and lifted her burning face off the cold tile floor.
“Hey, Levine. You OK? Guys said you’d been gone a long time.”
She pulled herself up on the toilet as footsteps started toward her. “Yeah. Fine. Just got the squirts. Musta been last night’s tacos.”
“That what Mrs. Odum’s feeding you? With all her years cooking for Joe, you’d think she could do better than that.”
“She does fine,” Sheryl snapped. “I asked her to make them.”
What a joke. She didn’t eat dinner the night before; she was too sick. She told Jasper, her partner, she was eating at home, and she told Libby she and Jasper had grabbed a bite. Shit, she hated this lying, especially to Libby.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She knew Libby was beginning to suspect something. Another reason to see a doctor. Jesus, what if she was dying of something? Cancer or whatever? What would that do to Allie and Libby? Allie just lost Lou, and Libby lost both Joe and her husband. But at least, they’d have each other. Without her.
She rested her head against the metal stall wall and wept soundlessly.
Seven
Allie slowed as she passed Sheryl’s house. Still no car. She slowed even more. Could that be what she was working? Sidney’s disappearance? She shook her head. No. Sheryl had been scarce for weeks, and Sidney escaped only today.
Reflexively, she glanced behind her. No one following her. Not Marc. Not Sidney. Both had followed her around at one time, and she was getting pretty good at spotting a tail.
Marc. Oh, God, what was she going to do about Marc?
Nothing. That was the only answer she could come up with. Until she had a better handle on her emotions and his trustworthiness, she would play it by ear. One thing she knew. She wouldn’t invest herself wholeheartedly in him again and have him walk away. Besides, there was Rand.
She pulled in her driveway and shut off the engine. Was that why she was so attracted to Rand? Because he was the polar opposite of Marc? Then, Rand’s image and the memory of his words returned to her, and she knew it was more than that. Rand Arbutten made her feel like no man had in her life—petite and precious while, at the same time, self-sufficient and capable.
She didn’t know how he managed it, but that’s what he did. She turned to jelly at the mere thought of him. And now, when would she see him again? Obviously, he thought Len was an old boyfriend back to stay. Why hadn’t she said anything? Maybe because she was in shock and didn’t snap out of it until Rand was gone. She couldn’t blame him. She’d have done the same thing under similar circumstances.
She climbed out of the car but laughed this time at the catcalls coming from the construction site next door. Frank and his crew. Against all odds, since they were the ones destroying her little bit of paradise, they’d become friends. She waved up at them. “Hi, guys,” she yelled. They were five floors up now, so they probably didn’t hear her, but every man waved back.
Spook raced out to greet her as she stepped inside. She scooped him up and held him close to her face. “How’s my fella? Are you hungry?”
Spook, at least at first, had been an unwelcome part of Allie’s inheritance. T
he story was that her aunt had rescued the dog a few months before her death from Hodgkin’s. They’d had a time getting used to each other, Allie and Spook, but now, she wouldn’t take a million dollars for him.
As she flipped the deadbolt, the phone rang. When Allie saw who it was, she realized she’d expected the call.
“Hello, Mother.”
Silence. “Why can’t you answer the phone properly, Allison? I thought I taught you better manners than that.”
Allie almost hung up, but she’d have to talk to the woman eventually. “Grainger residence. Allison Grainger, sole proprietor, speaking. May I help you?”
“Now, you’re just being ridiculous. What do you mean, sole proprietor?”
Vivian was an attorney. Let her figure it out. “What can I do for you, Mother?”
Another protracted silence. Vivian Grainger wasn’t used to having her questions ignored. Allie waited her out.
“I wanted to see if Len arrived there safely.”
Allie seethed. Vivian wanted to know if Allie had already caved. “Is there some reason he wouldn’t have? A plane crash or something?”
Allie could almost feel her mother’s anger vibrate across the wires. “I do not appreciate your sarcasm,” she said. “I asked a civil question. I don’t think a correspondingly civil answer is too much to expect.”
Allie rubbed her forehead. Her mother was right, much as it galled her to admit it. She didn’t know why her mother—and her brother, come to think of it—always brought out the teenage rebel in her, but they did. Allie was getting too old for that knee-jerk reaction. Besides, she’d fought enough battles for one day.
“I’m sorry, Mother. Yes, Len arrived.”
“That’s better. Then, may I speak to him?”
“He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
Exasperation reappeared in a heartbeat. “I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on Len. Why don’t you try the Hilton?”
“Why would he be at the Hilton?”
“Because that’s where I sent him.”
“I thought he was staying with you.”
“Well, when the two of you made your plans, you forgot to mention it to me.”
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