Dead Run

by Jodie Bailey

  And her father was dead. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

  But he sure did have a way of reaching out of the grave to reignite her grief. Grief that had intensified when a sniper’s bullet found her brother in Iraq.

  Kristin scanned the trees, trying to find something, anything to focus on. The sky, the breeze, the chilled morning air...anything but what lay behind her, emotionally and physically.

  Without turning around, Kristin knew Lucas and his friend would be close. From the brief couple of months they’d been running together, she had no doubt. Lucas was the kind who would protect even when he wasn’t wanted.

  She absolutely hated the comfort she felt. Knowing someone had her back unwound the tension. The smallest sliver inside wanted to stop and let them catch up, to not be alone.

  That was scarier than anything else. In the face of the morning’s events, seeing Lucas without time to prepare herself had sent a shudder through her insides. Every time they ran together, she’d had to school herself not to notice the way he made running seem effortless, the way his biceps peeked out from the sleeves of his T-shirt.

  Man, she hated reacting to him. She usually didn’t have a reaction to any guy at all. She’d always managed to stay detached, never engaging emotionally. She’d never had the dream of getting married, not after watching her parents claw and fight their way through their nasty, alcohol-fueled relationship. They’d stayed together out of some twisted kind of passion for one another. It was good in spurts. But when the passion flamed into anger, it was ugly for everybody within fist’s reach.

  Things in their family had grown uglier after her mother got sober and walked out when Kristin was sixteen, fighting to make life better for her children. But her father came at them again and again, was arrested and released over and over. Not even the law could save them. Her father had violated restraining orders until the day he ended everything.

  That was all the proof Kristin needed. Being on fire for anybody was a bad thing. Emotions out of control led to lives out of control. She’d never wanted any part of feelings like those, had always avoided them.

  But when it came to Lucas...he was a tough man to resist, and she’d tried her best. Those deep brown eyes had seen something inside her from the moment they’d crossed paths during a local half marathon and silently battled to the finish. Kristin had edged him out at the tape, but the conversation with Lucas after—and the realization he was responsible for the moving truck on her street a few days earlier—had solidified a friendship played out in long runs through their neighborhood when Kristin didn’t run solo on the trails.

  Runs that gradually grew longer as they started to talk. Surface things at first, but lately she’d come dangerously close to feeding him information about her past. He’d layered something soothing over her heart, something that touched her insides every time she talked to him, edging closer to things she’d never shared with anyone else. They’d never done anything but train together, yet he made her feel like allowing someone else inside her head was a good thing.

  And everything had to stop. The morning’s brutal reminder of her father’s cruelty coupled with the mention of her brother tore at her, chased her, drove her heart into hiding. Her feet pounded harder, her breathing growing more ragged as emotions drove the pace until she couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t even hear the outside world over the thumping of her pulse in her ears. By the time she hit the parking lot, her whole body hammered in time with her heartbeat. She’d pushed too hard, but the emotional and physical cleansing had been worth it.

  Slowing to a fast walk, Kristin scanned the area, glancing under her car in the distance to make sure no one was beneath it. She shook it off, glancing at the head of the trail.

  Two military police vehicles stood blocking the entrance.

  Kristin wanted to turn and run into the woods. Since the night her mother had been murdered, she’d avoided the police, even drove like a grandmother to wipe out any possibility of a speeding ticket. The thought of answering their pointed, dispassionate questions swirled bile in her stomach.

  Besides, talking to them wouldn’t change a thing. The justice system hadn’t saved her mother.

  She wouldn’t talk to them. Lucas had made the call. He’d seen as much as she had, and he could do the talking.

  Kristin whirled toward the woods, but only got an eyeful of Lucas and Travis coming off the trail.

  Trapped. There was nowhere to go. Kristin marched for her small green SUV, wishing she were invisible, guilt biting at her heels. Lucas was right. Even though the man had mentioned Kyle, with her brother dead, they certainly couldn’t ask him for his real motives. She ought to at least give a description to the police in case he tried to go after a woman who couldn’t feed him his nose for breakfast.

  Not that it would do any good to involve the law.

  The debate raged as she stared at her SUV parked at the edge of the lot, but her feet slowed. Something wasn’t right. There was no reflection from the driver’s window. Surely she hadn’t rolled it down.

  Ignoring her rapidly tightening muscles, she jogged to her SUV, slowing as she neared. The window was shattered, glass littering the driver’s seat. She punched the unlock code into the keypad and rounded the vehicle, ripping the passenger door open and scrambling across the seat. She jerked open the console to stare inside. Her wallet was where she always left it, but her keys were gone.

  She dropped back, staring at the space where they’d been. That man had asked about her brother. Probably knew where she lived. And now he had her house keys. For the first time, the magnitude of the attack tackled her.

  Feet pounded behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know whom they belonged to. While she wanted to drop to the ground beside the car and curl into a fetal position, she swallowed her fears and stiffened her posture as she turned to meet Lucas Murphy head-on. “You can tell your cop friends someone stole my keys.”

  Behind him, Travis waved at the officers and detoured, jogging toward the military policemen at the head of the trail.

  Lucas’s eyebrow lifted. “Your keys were in your car?”

  “It has a keypad lock. I lock them in when I run. It’s better than dropping them in the woods somewhere.” She slid out of the car and angled away from him, balling her fists and staring at the trees bordering the parking lot.

  He was too close. His brown eyes too dark, his muscles beneath his T-shirt toned after his stint slogging through the desert overseas. The last thing she wanted to think about was how tempting it would be to let those arms hold her right now.

  She ripped the headband from her hair and dragged her fingers through the tangle, probably standing it on end. She didn’t care. This day had skidded into a ditch, and it wasn’t even seven in the morning. Attacked on the trail. Stranded with only Lucas or the cops as her options for rescue. A strange man with her house keys.

  Really. It couldn’t get any worse.

  THREE

  “Dude, I think this might count as what normal people call ‘a problem.’” Travis Heath’s voice held the slightest thread of amusement as it drifted through the phone.

  Lucas planted both feet onto the wide boards of his front porch and dug in his heels, but he didn’t bother to answer. Travis would keep talking whether he responded or not.

  “There are better things to do on a Thursday night. There’s food. And friends. If any of the guys find out you’re stalking some girl’s house, your hero factor might fade a little.”

  Lucas didn’t find any of this amusing. In fact, if he were the one on the other end of the phone, he’d probably forget the jokes and call the first sergeant to suggest a talking-to. Sitting on the porch to watch Kristin’s house across the street ranked up there with one of the least rational things he’d ever done.

  After the attack at Smith Lake, Lucas hadn’t
been able to get Kristin off his mind, although he’d tried. With the unit still getting into a routine after their deployment, the day was filled with mundane tasks, reestablishing a training schedule. He should have been focused on his job, but all his brain could do was scroll unbidden images of Kristin and replay conversations they’d had over the past couple of months. Their friendship might be young, but it ran deep, at least for him.

  He couldn’t speak for her, though. She’d bordered on telling him more personal things before, but she always checked herself, as if she were keeping a part of herself walled away. Maybe it was one-sided and she needed someone to train with, not a friend to tell her thoughts to.

  Still, here he sat, anchored to a canvas chair, watching and waiting. Kristin had walked away today convinced the attack was a one-off, but Lucas couldn’t help but believe there was more to it. He scrubbed at his cheek, wishing he could go in the house, watch a little TV, then hit the rack and sleep like a baby. But something—call it intuition or Jesus poking at him—said Kristin’s run-in with a bad guy coupled with the theft of her keys was only the beginning. Being the victim of two random crimes at almost exactly the same time couldn’t be coincidence.

  He still couldn’t shake the feeling she hadn’t told him or the police everything. Something more had happened before Travis and he had come along. Lucas just couldn’t figure out what.

  “I lost you, didn’t I?” Travis’s voice drifted through the phone again. “No one can blame you for watching out for a friend, but don’t cross the line from concerned friend to stalker.”

  Sergeant First Class Travis Heath knew Lucas better than anybody. They’d first met years ago in Ranger School, then been stationed together in their current assignment. As they worked as platoon sergeants, Travis in headquarters and Lucas in second platoon, they’d cemented a friendship, depending on each other in and out of the war zone. Travis always called it like he saw it, and he’d learned a lot from his own mistakes. If he felt like Lucas’s porch surveillance was out-of-bounds, then it probably was, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do what he could to keep Lucas from sinking into deeper trouble. “You think I’m crossing the line?”

  “Only if you’re attracted to her.”

  True, Kristin James was the most incredibly beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, with short dark hair that waved around her face and blue eyes clear enough to see through to her thoughts...except this morning, when something about those eyes made it clear she was hiding part of her thoughts. She’d make any man do a double take. But knowing she was gorgeous didn’t mean he felt anything more than friendship. “I’m not.”

  “Came back with that answer awfully fast, didn’t you?” Once again, a smile laced Travis’s accusation.

  Really? Travis could think this was funny all he wanted, but none of this was laughable, especially since Travis’s track record with women was pretty rough. Sure, Travis had changed over the past year, matured and dropped a whole host of bad habits, but he didn’t need to be joking about relationships. His mistakes had sure made Lucas think twice about dating any woman when the military could swoop him up and send him off to anywhere in an instant.

  Aside from any of that, some guy had targeted Kristin. He had her keys and likely knew where she lived. The part of him trained to defend couldn’t let go. “I’m going to ask again. Do you think I’m crossing the line keeping an eye on her?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Travis sobered, his earlier amusement gone. “I know your gut, Luke. It’s better than a guided missile fixed on a target. You think something’s going on, then you sit outside her house all night. If you’re certain somebody’s put a bull’s-eye on her, then I’ll take a shift later tonight so you can get some rest. But hey, don’t be obvious. You’re still the new guy in the neighborhood, and the last thing you need is a neighbor calling the cops on the creepy dude staring at the pretty lady’s house. And definitely don’t let Kristin see you. From what I saw today, she’ll kick you into the next county herself.” He exhaled loudly. “Man, do me a favor. If you’re going to sit on the porch alone for hours, at least admit you feel something for her.”

  “I don’t feel anything for Kristin James.” He couldn’t let himself. Lucas had spent years in a misguided search for meaning and relevance after his parents abandoned him on his aunt’s doorstep. There was no counting how many people Lucas had hurt, how many women he’d used before a chaplain jerked him by the neck right after he graduated from basic training and called him on his self-destructive behavior, showed him what Jesus and grace and forgiveness could do in a man’s life.

  No, Lucas knew every man had limits, and he’d never cross a line with Kristin or any other woman again, at least not while the army called the shots.

  “Lie to yourself all you’d like.” Travis was far from finished. “I doubt you’d be standing watch if there wasn’t a little bit of emotion involved.” He paused. “Never mind. Scratch that. You would. It’s how you’re wired. Forgot who I was talking to.”

  “You finished yet?”

  “No. I called for a reason. The commander called. Criminal Investigation Command is sniffing around our guys.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea. But keep a lookout. Something might be about to unleash.”

  Surely none of their men were in deep enough trouble to merit CID poking into the unit. They dealt with major crimes. Lucas let his eyes slip shut, trying to remember any local murders or assaults he’d seen on the news. Other than a specialist who’d come up hot on a drug test near the end of the deployment, nothing fit what CID might be searching for in their unit. They’d cut the guy loose last week and sent him packing. Yeah, Specialist Morrissey had been upset, but he wasn’t the type of guy to do something to merit an investigation by CID. Then again, Lucas had been certain he wasn’t the kind of guy to test positive, either.

  “Here’s the other thing. Maybe you need a break. You spent your post-deployment leave here, moving your stuff out of storage. Take a four-day. Get some actual time away. Shift that laser focus of yours to something besides your job.”

  Tempting, but Lucas wasn’t ready to do nothing. His mind and his body were still on high alert from deployment. Sitting still sounded like a recipe for disaster until he totally unwound. “I’m doing a marathon next month. Can’t disrupt training.”

  “Yeah, ’cause pounding pavement until your whole body threatens to fall out is relaxing. Or does training mean you get to spend more time with Kristin? You’re prepping together for the same run, right?”

  “Hanging up now. Had enough of your harassment. Go have fun with your buddies.” Lucas shifted to press End, knowing if the shoe was on the other foot, he’d be doing a whole lot more to provoke Travis.

  “Hey, wait.” Travis’s urgency stopped Lucas from cutting the call. “If something goes down, you need to call the cops. Or at least call me. Don’t go all hero and try to save the day without someone backing you up. If there’s really somebody after Kristin James, there’s a reason, and if they’re willing to be as bold as they were today...”

  Lucas’s smile faded as he propped a foot on the porch rail. Travis was right. This was stupid. Monumentally, colossally stupid.

  Yet he wasn’t going anywhere. “I hear you.” Lucas punched End without saying goodbye and stared at the small, square two-story brick house across the street. A second vehicle sat in the driveway, a Jeep Wrangler. Her friend Casey. Travis had met the other woman twice, but he couldn’t remember a thing about her other than her dark green Jeep.

  The house sat square in the small lot, the front door planted in the center of the structure, the windows on either side lit and casting deep shadows on the wide front porch. The little house sat across from his in the older Haymount neighborhood in Fayetteville, where the historic houses were gradually being overtaken and updated by those who saw value in their craftsmanship. He’d been in Kr
istin’s house several times to work out in her basement gym when it was too rainy to get in a run, so he knew she’d put a lot of work into hers.

  The memory made him grin. Kristin James might be a smashingly gorgeous woman, but she trained like a drill sergeant. He’d thought he was in shape and figured it would be easy to keep pace with her. Nope. She was a machine. No way he could forget the kind of bodily pain he’d felt after letting her unleash her personal trainer side during a weight-lifting session.

  His smile faded. Kristin was small, but she was stronger than most men. She would be fine, and this stakeout was dumb. He was still in combat mode, seeing monsters in the shadows. Kristin was safe, and he needed to wrap this up, for his own sanity.

  He pushed himself out of the chair, but a flash from the corner of the house near her car stopped him.

  Lucas squinted against the darkness, wishing he could bolt across the street and demand some identification from the shadowy figure skirting between the vehicles in her driveway. But if it was a neighbor searching for a lost cat, he’d have a whole lot of questions coming and no good way to answer any of them.

  The flashlight bobbed under a window then to the far corner of the house, where the gate to the backyard stood in the huge wooden privacy fence. The flashlight paused, and then the gate slipped open and the silhouette of a man vanished.

  * * *

  The floor joists creaked as Kristin paced the small kitchen on the side of the house, listening to the coffeemaker whir as it heated water. The muscles in her legs ached their protest. After her run today, she’d been too keyed up to stretch, and the tension of the morning had settled in to stay. She’d met with clients all day, coaching them through their workouts, then come home and pounded the punching bag in the basement until her arm muscles quivered. Nothing had helped the stress.

  Maybe she ought to tackle painting the guest bathroom. She’d been putting it off, but painting would give her something to do tonight while she wasn’t sleeping. Renovations on the old house in the fast-rising Haymount neighborhood were coming slowly, but the basement and the first floor were done. Kristin paced the length of the kitchen again, staring at the original hardwood, polished to a satiny sheen. Tearing out layers of linoleum had been backbreaking but worth it.