She Can Hide (She Can Series)

by Leigh, Melinda

  Zeus followed her outside.

  Abby swayed. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

  Lorraine walked Abby to the guest room. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Do you have your pain medicine?”

  “I’m all set.” Abby was unaccustomed to having anyone fuss over her, but Lorraine’s concern gave her a warm spot in the middle of her chest.

  “Good night then.” Lorraine closed the door on her way out.

  Every inch of Abby’s body ached. She crawled into bed still dressed in the yoga pants and mangled sweatshirt she’d been wearing at the hospital.

  It felt like she’d just closed her eyes when a noise startled her awake. Abby sat up. Even in the brightly lit room, it took a minute to orient herself.

  Thump.

  It was probably the cat. Abby sat up. Agony shattered her elbow. Her body was feverish-hot, her mouth dry as sand. A glance at the nightstand told her the pain meds had worn off. Doing her best not to jar her arm, she eased to her feet and walked gingerly to the door. The hallway and house beyond were dark. Abby felt for a light switch as she shuffled toward the kitchen. Where was it? Pain kept her nerves at bay, and frankly, she was too damned tired for her phobia to kick in.

  Her hand swiped at the wall in the kitchen. The lights went on. A woman was standing in the middle of the room pointing a gun at Abby.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The dock creaked under Ryland’s feet. The dark water of the bay rippled white all the way across the sound. On either side, boats bobbed. Metal clanged, and the tails of carefully secured sails and lines snapped in the wind. The storm had passed, but the cold front that had pushed the weather system up the coast left an arctic howl in its wake. He turned back to watch the dockyard. The wind sheared through Ryland’s heavy overcoat with brute force.

  Headlights swept across the pilings.

  Paul was here. Had he come alone?

  It had been their agreement, but Ryland knew from experience that promises didn’t mean much when dealing with the likes of Paul Medina. A large sedan parked in the shadows. Ryland’s vehicle was also parked far from the overhead lights. The darker the better.

  Another gust shoved against his back, and he stiffened his spine against the push. Though Ryland hated the cold, a strong wind was his ally. He hadn’t chosen the dock by accident. In case Paul was looking to double-cross him and wearing a wire to their meeting, the sounds of wind and water would interfere with microphone reception, rendering a recording useless. Paul knew this as well and, with similar suspicions of Ryland, had agreed to the neutral meeting ground.

  A dark figure emerged from the vehicle and walked toward him. A small orange glow bobbed with his steps. Coming to a stop a few feet from Ryland, Paul didn’t complain about the cold either. Instead of a two-way street, trust was a dead end in their relationship.

  Paul nodded in greeting. He pulled his cigar from between his teeth. “Cigar?”

  “No. Thank you.” Ryland was in no mood for social niceties.

  Paul sensed his all-business inclination. “Have you given any further thought to my proposal? I have only your interests in mind.”

  “Was it you? Did you try to kill her?” Ryland bit off the words. A fresh gust whipped off the bay and tugged at his coat.

  “First of all, I don’t try to kill anyone.” Paul let the implication hang in the air. He tapped his cigar over the water. The ashes took flight, the glow blinking out seconds after they left the burning tip. “Secondly, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “My daughter.”

  Paul’s eyes gave nothing away. “You have a daughter?”

  “You didn’t know?” Ryland wished he could be on equal emotional footing in this conversation. But family was his one weakness, the only piece of his life he couldn’t compartmentalize, even the daughter he’d neglected all these years.

  “As much as I would like to, I can’t know everything.” Damn Paul. Never gave a fucking straight answer. He’d never admit anything. Was he telling the truth? Was Abby’s existence really a surprise? Paul was a damned good liar. Men without consciences usually were. Ryland should know.

  “None of us can,” Ryland said. “We make the best choices with the information at our disposal.”

  Paul’s eyes flickered. “You’re sure you don’t want to reconsider your decision about the business? As I told you the last time we spoke, there are other parties upset by your actions. Perhaps one of them learned of your daughter’s existence. Threats to one’s family are so disturbing.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps I should reconsider all my options.”

  “That would be the best way to secure your family’s future.” Paul’s eyes gleamed with victory—and greed. Unlike the casino and entertainment industry, drug-running was impervious to economic downturns. “I’ll let the interested parties know. How soon will your decision be implemented?”

  “Immediately.”

  Paul nodded with enthusiasm. “You’ve made a wise decision, my friend.”

  “We’re hardly friends.”

  “Be that as it may, you can rest easier knowing your family is safe.” Paul turned and started down the dock.

  Ryland drew his gun, put the barrel to the back of Paul’s head, and pulled the trigger twice. Paul collapsed and crumpled to the dock. He rolled to his side. His eyes were a blank slate. He hadn’t even had a chance to register his shock.

  “Yes, I can rest easy now that my family is safe.” Ryland signaled. His men climbed from a nearby boat and collected the body. He handed them his gloves and the gun. Ignoring the sounds of wood creaking as one of his employees replaced a bloodstained board, Ryland turned back to the horizon. A few minutes later, the boat eased from its mooring and chugged into the bay. He followed the sight of the boat’s running lights until the vessel disappeared in the darkness.

  He stood for a moment and stared out over the choppy water. For all the turmoil evident on its surface, what happened in its murky depths remained a mystery. Sometimes she hoarded her secrets like gold. Other times she tossed them onto her shores as if unworthy of her efforts.

  Ryland had no worries. His men knew how to make sure Paul never surfaced.

  Once Paul knew about Abby, he had to die. There was no way Ryland would put her in harm’s way again. Plus, the death would serve as notice to any other parties who were considering various ways to pressure him into submission.

  Ryland would not tolerate threats to his family.

  He walked down the dock and got into his car. Maybe Paul had forgotten how to take care of his own business, but Ryland remembered how things got done before he had men like Kenneth on his payroll. Sometimes if one wanted a task completed, it paid to do it oneself.

  “Don’t move.”

  Abby froze as instructed. She had to be hallucinating. She blinked hard, but the woman was still there. The gun-toting lady was in her midfifties, medium height with professionally styled dark hair and expensive clothes. She looked vaguely familiar.

  The woman was giving Abby the same critical once-over.

  “How did you get in here?” Abby asked.

  The woman lifted a confident shoulder. “Every wife should learn to pick locks. You never know what your husband might be hiding.”

  Where was Zeus? He should have barked. Abby spotted him in the next room, lying on his side. “What did you do to my dog?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “I gave him a couple of my sleeping pills. He’ll be fine. You should be more concerned for yourself.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You. Dead. It looks like if I want it done, I have to do it myself.” Her tone was disgusted. “Neither of the two men I hired could get it right.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t. That’s all right. You don’t have to be sm
art. You’re blonde, and you’re pretty.” Marlene snickered at her own joke.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Marlene Valentine. If you weren’t the illegitimate daughter of a whore, I’d be your stepmother.”

  Abby’s lungs expelled all their air. She’d only seen Ryland’s wife in photos. “What? Why do you want to kill me?”

  “He’s dying, you know.” From the gleeful tone of her voice, the thought didn’t distress Marlene. “He was diagnosed with cancer three years ago.”

  The truth hit Abby. “When I was kidnapped.”

  “You’re not as dumb as you look.” With every word, hatred poured out of Marlene’s mouth. “After that moron Faulkner botched your killing, Ryland went into remission. I let it go. But the cancer is back, and this time it’s going to take him. That means your reprieve is over too. He thinks I don’t know, that I’m stupid. Well, honey, I know everything. And not just about the cancer. I know all about the girls over the years. Your slutty mother. You.”

  “I had nothing to do with any of that.” Abby took a step back. “Trust me, being born wasn’t my decision.”

  “No, but now you have the power to take something that rightfully belongs to my sons.” Marlene pointed the gun at Abby. “I’ve invested thirty-five years of my life in that man. Do you know how many hours I spent on my knees making him happy? I put up with him coming to my bed smelling of hookers and dancers. I took the risk that he didn’t give me any horrible disease. And I did it all for my sons. They deserve to inherit his entire empire. They shouldn’t have to share it with a whore’s daughter.”

  “I want nothing from Ryland.”

  “Then why did you see him Friday night?”

  “I thought he might know who was trying to kill me.”

  “He doesn’t.” A self-satisfied smirk twisted Marlene’s mouth. “I’m way smarter than him.”

  Abby eased back another step.

  “You’re going with me.” Marlene gestured toward the door with the gun. “You don’t need a coat. You’ll be dead before you get cold.”

  Abby walked barefoot across the tile. If she could get a little distance between them, she could break away. She went through the doorway that led to the living room and the front door and darted to the left.

  “Get back here, you little bitch.” Marlene came through the doorway after her.

  Yowl.

  “Ah!” Marlene screeched.

  Abby spun around. Sweetums was doing his back-arched, hissing routine at Marlene. Her expensive slacks were shredded. Blood seeped through the silky material at her calves. She pointed the gun at the cat. Abby raised her arm and brought her cast down on Marlene’s wrist. The gun clattered to the floor. Marlene spun and grabbed Abby’s hair. The cat hissed again, and Marlene kicked at him.

  “Freeze.”

  They did. A rumpled-looking Ronnie leveled a gun at Marlene. “Put your hands in the air.”

  Fury contorted Marlene’s features, but she complied.

  “Don’t move,” Ronnie ordered. She whipped out her phone and called for backup. “Abby, there are some plastic ties in the garage. Would you bring me a couple?”

  “Sure.” Abby turned.

  Glass broke. Something thudded. Marlene dropped to the floor, a perfect hole in the center of her forehead.

  “What the…?” Ronnie dropped into a crouch. She grabbed Abby and hustled her into the kitchen. “Stay down.”

  Abby held her arm close to her body. Her body was oddly cold and her head light, but the white-hot pain in her arm kept her focused.

  “Oh no.” Ronnie’s hand was on her back. “Put your head down.”

  “What’s going on?” Lorraine yelled from the hall.

  “That was a gunshot! Stay back there, Aunt Lorraine,” Ronnie shouted back.

  Sirens wailed in the distance as Abby put her forehead on her knees. An hour later, the property was swarming with cops: local, state, county. But there was no sign of the shooter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  One week later

  Ethan walked out to the barn. He was still embarrassingly weak, and his tolerance for the cold made him long for a Florida beach. But even recuperating, he had too many responsibilities to go anywhere.

  But he was OK with that. More OK than he’d been in a long time.

  Derek had the roan pony in the aisle. He was carefully combing the tangles from his mane while the animal nosed through the kid’s pockets for treats.

  Ethan gave the roan’s neck a rub. “How is he?”

  Derek just nodded. He still wasn’t talking much. His cuts were healing, but his inability to enunciate words correctly embarrassed him.

  “I wanted to talk about a couple of things.” Ethan eased into a conversation that would likely upset the kid. He’d get the bad news over with first, then more into what he hoped would make the boy happy. “Your mom is going into a rehab center. They’re going to help her quit drinking and get her life back on track, but she’s going to be gone for a while.”

  The comb paused then resumed the short strokes on the pony’s mane.

  “I was hoping you’d be OK with staying on the farm. I could use some help around here. You know my cousin Ronnie has been pestering the devil out of me to adopt these two horses.” Ethan unzipped his jacket to adjust his sling. Not only was Mr. Smith prohibited from owning large animals, he was going to jail for his armed assault on Abby and Ethan.

  Derek put the comb in the bucket by the wall and pulled out a soft brush. He went to work removing some caked dirt on the pony’s foreleg.

  “I’ve been telling her I couldn’t do it. I just don’t have the time to take care of them. But if you were here, maybe you could do most of the work.”

  Derek looked up. His eyes were wet. Was he happy or sad? Probably both. He jumped up and threw his arms around Ethan’s neck. Pain blasted through Ethan’s shoulder, but he didn’t care.

  Derek released him, looking at his shoulder. “Sorry.” His r’s sounded like w’s. Having the speech pattern of a three-year-old was one of the reasons Derek wasn’t going back to school just yet. Physically, he’d heal quickly, but his emotional recovery was going to take longer.

  “No problem.” Ethan grinned. “I take it that’s a yes?”

  The boy nodded hard.

  “Then you get to name them. You should hurry up before Cam and Bryce get home this weekend. They think of the weirdest names for horses.”

  “Batman and Robin.”

  Ethan laughed. “I assume this little guy is Robin?”

  Derek nodded.

  “Batman and Robin are excellent names.” Ethan shivered.

  The cold didn’t seem to bother Derek. A thick parka and insulated boots replaced his old, inadequate outerwear.

  “Do you need any help with him?”

  Derek shook his head. The last couple of days, he’d spent long hours in the barn, basking in the healing powers of the animals.

  The bay stuck his head out of his stall. Ethan went over to give his neck a rub. “How’s Batman this morning?”

  “Good.” Derek was a natural with the skittish horse. They had a lot in common.

  “I’m going back up to the house then.” Though he was nervous about leaving the boy alone, Ethan knew Derek needed some space. The bond of trust between them needed to go both ways. Derek had promised not to run again, and Ethan believed him. “Abby’s coming over soon.”

  “’Kay.” Content, Derek went back to grooming the already-clean roan.

  Ethan walked back to the house through a few inches of fresh snow. He left his boots and coat in the mudroom.

  Abby parked in her driveway. The house next door was empty, the windows dark. A piece of yellow crime scene tape fluttered from the front porch. She unlocked her door and stepped into the foyer. Zeus greeted her with th
e usual enthusiasm. Despite the dog’s warm welcome, her house no longer felt like her home. Every time she looked at Krista and Derek’s house, memories swamped her.

  She set her briefcase on the table and fed the dog. Exhaustion rolled through her. Returning to work right away had probably been a mistake. She put on a pot of coffee and perused the fridge. Nothing looked appealing. Coffee for now, then.

  She sat down at the table and started grading papers. Three tests later, her eyes were crossing.

  Zeus’s head shot up. He headed for the front of the house with a deep woof. Her doorbell bonged, and his barking turned serious.

  Cautious, Abby went to the living room window. A dark sedan was parked at the curb. She leaned close to the glass to get a view of her front porch. Shock woke her more than the caffeine.

  She opened the door. “Ryland. What are you doing here?”

  He was the last person she expected to see. Marlene’s death had set off a media firestorm. Though the police hadn’t tied him to her murder, the press was happy to speculate on his guilt. Ryland had practically gone into seclusion.

  A man, taller and somehow ominous, waited by the car.

  “Abby. We need to talk.” His face had aged ten years since she’d seen him just a week ago. Lines of grief, exhaustion, and worry creased his eyes.

  She stood aside and pulled Zeus back by the collar so her father could enter. The big dog was a convenient barrier. Zeus snorted, punctuating several seconds of awkward silence.

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” Ryland gave the dog a worried glance but followed her back to the kitchen. Zeus stretched out on the floor, his attention never wavering from the stranger.

  “Good watchdog?”

  “Very,” Abby said.

  Ryland nodded in approval and took a seat at the table. Abby poured coffee into a mug and handed it to him. She took the seat opposite him.

  He set his cup down. “I’ll be brief. I certainly don’t want anyone to see me here and bring more unwanted attention to you, but there are some things you should know.”