She Can Hide (She Can Series)

by Leigh, Melinda

  Ethan’s open hand shifted to the gorgeous woman. “And my cousin, Ronnie.”

  Cousin? Abby perked up. The relief that swept through her was as unexpected as her earlier prick of jealousy. One kiss. That’s all it had been, and it likely meant more to her than Ethan, since she’d been the one melting down.

  “Nice to meet you.” Ronnie walked over and shook their hands. A patch on her jacket identified her as a humane society police officer.

  Next to Derek’s shoulder, a reddish nose poked over the nearest stall and snorted. A pony head followed, barely reaching over the half door.

  Derek’s eyes brightened. “Can I pet him?”

  “Sure.” Ethan rubbed the pony’s nose. “This little guy is as friendly as a puppy.”

  “What’s his name?” Derek mimicked Ethan, stroking the pony between its soft brown eyes. Zeus put his front paws on the stall door. Mutual sniffs were exchanged. The dog wagged his tail. The pony pricked its ears.

  Ethan frowned. “He doesn’t have a name. These horses aren’t ours. We’re fostering them for the humane society.”

  Abby glanced over the stall door. The blanket didn’t cover the bony neck. She didn’t know much, OK anything, about horses, but she recognized a starving animal when she saw it.

  The vet cleared his throat, and Ethan’s attention moved to the next stall, where Abby assumed the sick horse was kept.

  “Bryce, why don’t you take Abby and Derek into the house? It’s cold out here,” Ethan said.

  Bryce raised a brow and pointedly looked at Abby. “Really? With Mom?”

  Ethan sighed. “Just tell her they’re hungry. That ought to keep her busy.”

  Bryce laughed. “Come on up to the house.” He waved toward the exit.

  Abby glanced over her shoulder. Ethan approached the stall door. He plucked a rope from a wall hook and walked inside without hesitating. A few seconds later, he emerged with a horse on the other end of the lead. The nylon was slack with no tension. The horse stopped and gave the vet a nervous eye roll. Without looking back, Ethan left the rope loose and took a step. The horse shifted forward and followed. Ethan turned. The horse stopped, stretching its nose toward his face. For a minute, they seemed to be sharing breaths—or thoughts. Ethan raised a hand and rested it on the thin neck. The horse sighed. Its head lowered as its spine relaxed.

  Goose bumps rose on Abby’s arm. She knew how the horse felt. Ethan had the same effect on her.

  “Amazing.” The vet straightened and moved toward the animal. “You still have the touch, my friend.”

  Ethan moved his hand, rubbing a spot at the base of the horse’s neck. “He just needs someone to trust.”

  “Don’t we all,” said the vet.

  As Abby left the barn, she could hear Ethan and the vet discussing possible infections and feeding issues.

  She closed the big wooden door quietly and hurried to catch up with Bryce and Derek. Twilight was settling over the snowy yard in shades of gray and white. Bryce opened the back door. Abby, Derek, and Zeus followed him inside. They hung their coats on hooks in the mudroom. A short hallway opened into a spacious living room. Two overstuffed sofas and a recliner clustered around a stone fireplace. A flat-screen TV hung on the wall, and a Christmas tree glittered in the corner. The room was furnished for comfort, not aesthetics. Abby wanted to start a fire, take off her shoes, and curl up with a good book and a glass of wine. A big glass.

  An old tomcat stood at the entrance to the kitchen.

  “Oh look, a cat,” Abby said.

  “Oh shit! Where?” Bryce whirled.

  “It’s OK. Zeus likes cats,” Abby said.

  “It’s not the cat I’m worried about.” Bryce lunged, but before he could snag the big dog’s collar, Zeus shuffled up to the cat, sniffed, and wagged his tail. The scraggly feline arched its back and hissed in its best impression of the dead cat from Pet Sematary.

  Zeus cocked his head and backed up a step. With an ear-splitting yowl, the cat attacked, jumping forward at lightning speed and swiping at the dog’s gigantic nose with one taloned paw. Zeus yelped. He shook his massive, loose-lipped head, sending gobs of spit and drops of blood flying through the air.

  “Sweetums, stop that!” Bryce changed direction, heading for the cat, but Sweetums was on the offensive. Zeus backed up at warp speed through the living room, upending an end table in his path. The cat chased the retreating canine across the debris.

  “Oh dear. Come here, Sweetums. Bad cat.” A slim blonde woman hustled through the doorway just as Zeus backed into and over the cheerfully decorated Christmas tree. The six-foot artificial evergreen went over with a creak and crash. The sound of glass bulbs breaking and lights popping filled the room, accompanied by more high-pitched howling from the dog and hissing and spitting from Sweetums. The woman swooped up the cat and tucked it under one arm.

  Abby was unable to move. Shock and embarrassment rendered her motionless. Her larynx froze in horror. Then she heard an unbelievable sound. Ethan’s mother was laughing, and it wasn’t just a giggle, it was a full belly roar.

  Bryce grabbed Zeus’s collar. He sighed. “Abby, Derek, this is my mom, Lorraine Hale.”

  “Mrs. Hale, I’m so sorry,” Abby stuttered.

  “Please call me Lorraine, and you have no reason to apologize.” Lorraine laughed so hard that she dropped the cat. Sweetums climbed a nearby bookshelf.

  “Where’s the video camera when you need it?” Lorraine slapped her knee and lowered her body to the living room chair. Tears streamed down her face, and she snorted indelicately. “That would’ve taken the grand prize.” She sniffed and tried to catch her breath.

  Derek and Bryce stared at the carnage of broken ornaments, overturned furniture, and the felled tree with identical expressions of disbelief.

  Cam came in from the mudroom. “What the hell happened in here?”

  “Zeus met Sweetums,” Bryce said.

  “I take it Sweetums was his charming self?” Cam asked dryly.

  “The gracious host, as always.” Bryce let go of the dog. Zeus tucked his tail between his muscular legs. Strands of tinsel hung from his ears, and blood dripped from his nose onto the hardwood floor.

  “You know, I think you were right, boys. It’s past time to take down the tree.” Lorraine took a ragged breath and stood up, extending her hand to Abby. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Your poor dog! He’s terrified. Sweetums can be territorial.”

  From his elevated perch, Sweetums stared down at the dog and humans below with pure feline disdain.

  Zeus whimpered.

  “He won’t bite, will he?” Lorraine contemplated the giant canine.

  “Oh no. Zeus is very gentle. He wouldn’t have hurt the cat.”

  “I wish I could say the same for Sweetums.” Lorraine held her hand out for Zeus to sniff. His tail rose a few inches, and just the tip wagged. “You just ignore that mean old cat. Let’s get you in the kitchen and wash that scratch.”

  Lorraine herded Zeus toward a doorway. She gave out orders with a glance over her shoulder. “Cam, get the vacuum. Bryce, haul that tree back to the basement. Derek, would you mind helping?”

  “No, ma’am,” Derek answered.

  Abby followed Lorraine into a large country kitchen. A long trestle table occupied half the space. Worn cabinets formed an L along the remaining walls. Pots and pans, their copper bottoms discolored from age and use, hung from a circular rack. Lorraine’s kitchen was no fancy entertainment space. It was a workroom.

  Abby’s finger trailed along the scrubbed-smooth table. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

  “Don’t give it another thought. I raised three boys. This old house has seen it all.” Lorraine pulled a first aid kit from the kitchen drawer. She dabbed some antiseptic ointment on Zeus’s nose. The dog stood quietly for her. “He’s a very nice dog. I imagine
he can be fierce if he wants to be, though.”

  “Yes, I guess he could.”

  Lorraine packed away the first aid kit and moved to the freezer. “Do you and Derek like spaghetti and meatballs?”

  “Oh, we can’t trouble you for dinner,” Abby protested.

  “Nonsense. I’m cooking anyway.” Lorraine gave Abby an appraising stare. “In fact, you should stay in our guest room tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Well, Ethan’s going to be tied up with the horse for quite a while, and you really shouldn’t be alone, should you?”

  Shame filled Abby. “What did Ethan tell you about me?”

  “Honey, I’ve been on the committee of the Methodist church for more than thirty years. Ethan doesn’t have to tell me anything about what goes on in this town.” Lorraine put an arm on her shoulder.

  Abby had no words.

  “Why don’t you go out to the barn and let Ethan know you’ll be staying.” Lorraine steered Abby toward the back door.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Abby zipped her coat. Wait. Had she even agreed?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ethan leaned his forearms on the half door. Inside the stall, the bay horse dozed, head low. But the animal’s sleep was restless. Its hips shifted restlessly as it transferred weight from one rear hoof to the other.

  The barn door opened. Cold night air—and Abby—rushed in. A healthy pink flush colored her cheeks. The change was welcome after the despair she’d emitted at the sight of the filled-in well that afternoon.

  “Dinner will be ready soon.” Her warm brown eyes peered out from beneath a black knit cap pulled low on her forehead. Too-large gloves flapped on her delicate hands. Both were his, extra sets kept in the mudroom. At the sight of her in his outerwear, his heart did a touchdown dance.

  He was an idiot. And he was beginning to think he was an idiot in big trouble. Every time she blinked those big brown eyes at him he remembered their kiss, and he wanted to do it again. This time without all the despair. He wanted her edgy with desire instead. “What are we having?”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs.” She sidled up next to him and peeked into the stall. “How is he?”

  “The vet thinks he’ll be OK. Probably an infection of some sort—not a surprise considering where the poor guy lived.” He told her about the rescue.

  “The poor thing.”

  “Ronnie says she’s seen worse pull through.” But the horse’s lethargy worried him.

  “Can you come in to eat, or do you need to stay out here?” She turned.

  Ethan glanced at the bay. “I don’t want to leave him just yet in case he has a reaction to the medication. Cam or Bryce can come down after dinner and take a turn.”

  “You must be hungry,” she said.

  “I am.” Ethan dipped his head and caught her mouth. The kiss was soft and sweet. “That’ll tide me over.”

  Her eyes darkened, and Ethan’s pulse kicked into second gear.

  “Did I mention your mother invited me to stay in your guest room tonight?”

  “Invited?” Ethan raised a disbelieving brow.

  “Well, suggested.” Abby’s mouth pursed. “OK, insisted is probably a better word.”

  “Don’t feel bad.” Ethan grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders. “My mom can twist a conversation until you don’t know what’s happening. Let me guess, you were nodding your head and had no idea what you were agreeing to?”

  Abby blushed. “I’m sorry. I should have said no. I should have checked with you. Do you mind?”

  Ethan grinned. “No. It’s fine as long as she didn’t bully you into it.”

  “Bully me?” Abby said. “Your mom is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Yes, that’s one of the many weapons in her arsenal.” Ethan brushed his mouth against hers again.

  Abby laughed. Pleasure filled Ethan’s chest at the sound. He could overlook his family’s idiosyncrasies if his mom and brothers could make Abby smile.

  “It’s a great idea. After dinner I’ll run Derek home, and you can pick up a change of clothes.” He brushed his lips against hers again then lifted his head. “Is Derek OK?”

  Abby’s smile turned fake. “Sure.”

  “I get the feeling his home life isn’t the best.”

  “Not everyone lives the American dream.”

  “Yeah. I know that,” Ethan said. “I looked him up in the system the other day.” Derek had been in the foster system a few years ago.

  Abby stiffened. “Krista cleaned herself up.”

  “Is she clean now?” Ethan hated asking the hard questions, but Derek’s safety had to take precedence.

  Abby’s eyes glittered with moisture. “Does his file say anything about the two older boys who beat him and tried to molest him while he was in foster care?” Her voice turned tight and angry.

  “No.” Ethan blew out a hard breath. “Poor kid.”

  “Yeah.” Abby sniffed. “The system is a big roulette wheel.”

  The tone of her voice set off an alarm inside Ethan. “Were you ever in it?”

  Abby rolled a piece of hay between her fingers. “Once, for a couple of weeks when I was seven. My mother had been drinking, and a neighbor called social services. Scariest time of my life.”

  Ethan’s insides clenched with pity. “What happened?”

  “Nothing really. The parents pretty much left me alone. Other than providing meals, they didn’t do much for any of the kids. It was the other foster children who scared me. The oldest was a girl of about fourteen. She stole my doll on the first night and made it clear she’d hurt me if I breathed a word of it. She didn’t need to threaten me. Like most of the others, I was already conditioned to keep my mouth shut.”

  The image of a frightened seven-year-old Abby sent Ethan’s empty gut into another spasm.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Mom sobered up and got me back.” Her voice steadied. “It never happened again.”

  “Did she drink often?”

  Abby lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “No. Mostly after a rare visit from my father. He was the love of her life, but he was already married and refused to leave his wife and kids.”

  Ethan pulled her closer. They stood in silence for a few minutes, then her body relaxed and her head dropped onto his shoulder. Warmth filled Ethan, the cold of the barn forgotten. He kissed the top of her head. “You should go eat.”

  She lifted her head, rose onto her toes, and gave him a soft kiss. “I can wait for you.”

  Ethan liked the sound of that. Too much. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered vowing to simplify his life, but it seemed he was doing the exact opposite. Abby and Derek were working their way into his heart. And he’d taken in two horses he needed about as much as frostbite.

  While he teased Abby about his mother’s interference, he was glad she’d taken the initiative. Faulkner was dead, but Ethan couldn’t shake the anxiety that gripped him when he thought about Abby’s case.

  Maybe it was Faulkner who’d tried to kill her. But why? What did he have to gain? Risking freedom for revenge didn’t make sense when the man was already involved in a lawsuit that could score him cash.

  Despite Abby’s claim that Abrams screwed up her case, Ethan hoped retired detective Roy Abrams had some ideas. Because if it hadn’t been Faulkner who poisoned her, then who wanted Abby dead?

  Shivering on his front porch, Derek turned the knob. The front door was locked. Weird. Mom never locked up until Derek was home. And when she was lost in her current boyfriend, it was usually Derek who locked the house up for the night.

  He fished his key from his front pocket. The rumble of the garage door startled him. He peered around a porch post. Joe carried a black lawn and leaf bag out of the garage.

  Huh. Tomorrow wasn’t trash day.
Apprehension trickled down Derek’s spine.

  The garage door rolled closed. Joe hefted the bag down the driveway. He tossed it into the bed of his truck, got into the vehicle, and drove away. Strange.

  Derek went into the house. “Mom?”

  He followed the sound of the fridge opening and closing to the kitchen. His mom was popping the top off a beer. He could tell by the glassy shine in her eyes that it wasn’t her first.

  “What’s Joe doing?” he asked.

  Fear broke through the haze in Mom’s gaze. “I don’t know. He said he had to run an errand, and he’d be right back.” She picked the edge of the beer label and glanced at the door.

  “No work tonight?”

  She worked a tiny strip of label and turned the bottle, peeling the paper away in a long strip like an apple skin. “Maybe tomorrow.” She raised the bottle to her lips and drank.

  Derek knew better than to press the issue. If she felt overwhelmed, she’d only drink more. She took her beer into the family room. Derek checked the pantry. She hadn’t gone shopping. Good thing he’d filled up on spaghetti and meatballs at Ethan’s house.

  A stab of envy hit him in his full belly. Ethan had cool brothers and a mom who would never drink until she forgot to feed him. Mrs. Hale wouldn’t tolerate the likes of Joe either. Ethan was winning Abby over too, with the same quiet way that he charmed that horse.

  Derek pictured Joe again. What had been in that trash bag?

  He went to the living room and peered through the window at the street. Joe wasn’t back yet. Derek hurried back through the house to the door in the laundry room that led into the garage. His gaze swept over the piles of rusted junk. Nothing unusual.

  Derek traced his steps into the house. The basement door was under the stairwell in the living room. He opened the door and flipped on the light. A strange smell drifted up the steps. Derek started down, the meatballs and tomato sauce tumbling through his belly. His sneakers squeaked on the wooden treads.

  He scanned the unfinished cellar. Boxes of discarded crap still dominated the room, but the windows had been covered with towels. In the far corner, the clutter had been shoved out of the way. The items that sat on a discarded table brought the taste of Italian seasonings into Derek’s throat: a scale, a hot plate, and rubber gloves.