She Can Run (11 page)

Beth’s jaw tensed. Her weight shifted back a hair as she fought the urge to move away from him. Maybe he’d scared her earlier when he’d shouted, but she’d been too concerned about the horse to react. Or maybe she was more afraid she’d respond to his touch the way she had in the kitchen. Didn’t matter. Either way, he had to make sure she was OK.

She exhaled and nodded. “You’re right.”

Jack lowered his body onto a wooden bench next to the barn door and set the emasculating cane aside.

Beth bent to pull her pant leg up, but her calf had already begun to swell. She cut off a soft gasp of pain. The jeans wouldn’t budge. Jack grasped both sides of the tear and ripped the denim all the way to the hem. Beth jumped, but Jack ignored her. If she was going to pull stupid stunts, she had to expect to get hurt.

He wrapped one hand around a slender ankle and turned the injury to the light cast by the fixture over the barn door. Sure enough, a bruise was already coloring the side of her leg and had swelled into a softball-sized lump. The skin wasn’t broken, so no fear of infection, just an insult to the otherwise perfectly smooth skin on which his hand lingered.

He lifted his eyes to look at her face. She was staring at his hand on her ankle, too. She met his gaze and blinked. Her face flushed as she realized he’d caught the look, which held no trace of alarm. Desire, however, was a distinct possibility. His thumb stroked the soft skin just above her anklebone. Under his fingertips, her pulse quickened. He couldn’t be sure in the dim light, but her eyes seemed to darken.

Headlights appeared on the access road to the barn and swept across the barnyard.

With his fingers still wrapped around Beth’s delicate ankle, Jack cleared his throat. “You should put some ice on that.”

“Later.” Beth pulled her leg from his grasp, shook her torn pant leg down, and returned to the horse’s side. A plain white van pulled up into the yard, and a gray-haired man stepped out. Dr. White’s six-and-a-half-foot frame was clad in extra-large green coveralls and huge muck-covered work boots.

Jeff introduced Dr. White to Beth and Jack. For a split second, Jeff’s gaze met Jack’s with surprising venom, then smoothed over. Was he jealous? Did Jeff have a thing for Beth? Not hard to believe. Jeff was a semi-recluse, more comfortable with his horses than humans, and Beth was beautiful—and nice. Most good-looking women wouldn’t give a guy like Jeff the time of day, but Beth treated him with kindness. A crush on Beth would certainly explain why Jeff had rushed over here tonight. It didn’t really matter. Beth didn’t show any signs of reciprocating.

The vet gave the horse a quick examination, devoting considerable time to listening to her belly with a stethoscope. He rubbed her neck. “Same old, same old, huh, Luce?” He returned to his van, filled a syringe, and injected it into Lucy’s neck. “Gave her a very light dose of Ace. She should start to improve in the next thirty minutes to an hour. Walk her twenty minutes every hour…” he glanced at his watch. “Until ‘bout midnight. Then, as long as she’s quiet, you can put her into her stall, but keep an eye on her. Call me if she gets any worse. I’ll leave you with another dose in case you need it. I’ll send the bill to the house, Jack. Gotta go see a sick cow over at the Walsh place.”

That was it? He was leaving? Jack looked to Beth, then Jeff. Neither of them seemed the least bit shocked that the vet was going to leave them with this sick and possibly violent horse.

Jeff took over walking so Beth could follow the vet to his van. The doctor handed her a plastic bag before climbing in and driving off. Beth stowed the package in the barn and returned to the horse, taking the rope from Jeff.

They walked for another twenty minutes. Full darkness had descended on the yard, which Jack decided needed better lighting. And he was calling tomorrow to have a phone installed in the barn. Damned cell service was too spotty out here. Finally, Beth checked her watch and stopped. Lucy’s head hung lower. She didn’t paw or snort, and her breathing seemed to have eased.

Beth’s head seemed to hang lower, too. She looked tired, but she’d probably walked a couple of miles with the horse. Food might perk her up. “You gonna be here for a few minutes, Jeff?” Jack called. “I have to run up to the house real quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay till you get back.”

Beth stroked the horse’s jaw and called out, “Would you check on the kids while you’re there?”

“Sure. Be right back.”

Katie had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room. Her hair was still damp, and she was in her pajamas. Mrs. Harris sat next to her, watching television.

“Ben’s in the shower.” She kept her voice low and anticipated his next question. “There’s a thermos of coffee and some cookies in a bag on the counter.”

“Thanks. Sounds like we’re going to be there a while.”

Mrs. Harris nodded. “Colic can be an all-nighter.”

Wonderful
. By the time he returned to the barn, food in hand, Beth was sending Jeff on his way.

“I’m a phone call away if you need anything.” Jeff gave the horse a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Jeff. You were a big help.”

His dorky neighbor seemed to expand at the compliment. Did she have to sound so grateful? And why didn’t she use that appreciative tone with him instead of Jeff? Jack set the bag of food down on the bench and walked Jeff to the beat-up jeep he’d parked behind the barn.

After Jeff’s taillights had started bumping their way across the meadow toward his farm, Jack turned his attention back to Beth and the horse. They lapped the barnyard a few more times, then stopped to rest again.

“Here.” Jack handed her a travel cup of coffee. “Sit down for a few. There are cookies in the bag.” He reached for the lead rope.

Beth paused, obviously unsure of his ability to handle the animal, even now that it was drugged and compliant. “You sure?” Her doubt was understandable, but it still stung.

He nodded. A wry smile pulled at his face. “I think I can handle standing still with her for a couple of minutes since she’s quiet.”

“Thanks.” Beth sank onto the bench in an exhausted slump.

“I should be thanking you. This is my horse you’ve been walking all evening.” The mare’s muzzle was soft as velvet under Jack’s stroking fingers.

“It’s my job, remember?” Beth worked her way through several cookies, chasing them down with long swigs of coffee. The single, dim overhead light deepened the shadows under her eyes. How long would she insist on watching the horse?

“Really, you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“You obviously don’t know many horse people.” Beth grinned. “This isn’t all that abnormal.”

Jack gave the mare a rueful look. “Who’d have thought something so big could be so fragile.” He shifted his gaze back to Beth.

Or that something that looks so fragile could be so strong.

Somewhere around midnight the horse left a steaming pile of manure in the barnyard and emitted several unladylike digestive sounds that inordinately thrilled his new caretaker. Beth smiled and rubbed Lucy’s neck. “She’ll feel much better now.”

“That was it?” Couldn’t be. Beth couldn’t possibly have risked a hoof in the head because the horse had gas.

Beth led a placid Lucy into her stall. The tranquil mare stood with her head in the corner, eyes closed. “If we’re lucky.”

Horses were a pain in the ass.

Beth leaned on the half door and rested her head on her forearms. Exhaustion had drained her face of all color and animation. That was when Jack realized she had no intention of leaving the barn for the duration of the night. Which meant he was in for a long night, too. There was no way he could sleep in his comfortable bed while Beth played nursemaid to his sick horse and possibly tried to maim herself again. He limped into the tack room and grabbed two chairs. The wooden seats wouldn’t be very comfortable but were way better than standing up for the rest of the night. His knee ached like a mother.

The look of surprise on Beth’s face when he set them in the aisle was well worth losing a night’s sleep. After barely a second of thought, she sat down next to him, too tired to move the chair further away. And when his arm settled against hers, she didn’t move.

No more than thirty minutes passed before her head dropped onto his shoulder. While she dozed, Jack leaned closer and did something he couldn’t do when she was awake. He inhaled the scent of her. Under a layer of hay dust, she smelled like strawberries and woman, a heady mix that sent extra blood rushing to his groin despite the pain in his knee and the uncomfortable chair.

In his imagination she turned her face to his, her eyes open and filled with desire. And, of course, she was naked.

If only there was some way to turn his dream into reality.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thump. His cargo shifted in the trunk as the car passed over a large pothole.

“Sorry, darling,” he called aloud to the empty vehicle—as if an apology was meaningful at this point.

He lowered the car window and breathed the damp night air deep into his lungs. What a wonderful evening! Of course, his date hadn’t had quite as much fun, but then he hadn’t intended for
her
to enjoy herself. He chuckled to himself as he slowed the car, looking for the narrow gravel lane that led to his favorite dump site.

A half mile after passing the green sign announcing he’d entered South Bend, Pennsylvania, he put his foot on the brake and made the turn.

An owl hooted from the depths of the dark forest as he pulled his sedan into the clearing and parked. No one lived in the old two-story saltbox anymore. Built too close to the water in a low area prone to flooding, the riverfront home had been abandoned years earlier. Wind and rain had stripped the paint from the once-white porch. Windows that weren’t boarded up were broken. Weedy vines claimed the foundation and the first few feet of faded yellow clapboards.

Beyond the house, a decaying floating dock pointed out over the dark water like a bent, arthritic finger.

He got out of the car. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he hefted the large, tarp-wrapped bundle from the trunk and threw it over his shoulder. It was lucky he preferred his dates to be petite.

Since storm clouds smothered the moonlight, he fished a flashlight from his pocket and trained the narrow beam of light directly on the dock in front of him. At the end, he set the bundle down, spreading his feet to balance himself on the undulating dock.

Without the additional weight, the trip back to the car to retrieve three cinder blocks took only a minute. He used to use only two, but a few weeks before, one of his previous packages had broken loose and drifted downstream to be discovered near the public access ramp just days after he’d dumped her. He didn’t mind them popping up, but the longer the bodies stayed underwater, the better.

Quickly unwrapping the bundle, he secured the blocks with nylon rope and rolled the body into the water, temporarily disturbing the thick layer of greenish-brown scum on the surface. The head went under first. Long, dark hair swirled in the beam of his flashlight. A pair of slender bare feet tipped out of the water briefly before sinking in an eddy.

Yes, he knew for a fact that his date hadn’t enjoyed her evening.

He swatted absently at a mosquito on his arm as he folded up his tarp and jogged back to his car. Thunder rumbled. The coming storm would wash away any trace of his visit, but he gave the ground a quick scan just in case.

Humming cheerfully, he headed back toward Westbury on the interstate, satisfied with a job well done. The ride wouldn’t take more than ninety minutes, much better than the long distances he used to travel. Despite the fact that he’d reduced the size of his hunting and disposal circle, the police were no closer to identifying him. They were totally clueless. What did he have to do to make eluding them a challenge?

He’d take a few weeks off, a well-deserved rest. Then it would be time to decide on another beauty. Just to keep things interesting, no more random selections. He’d already made a list of likely candidates.

Now, he only had to make up his mind which one was going to be the lucky woman.

There was one who’d caught his eye. Westbury’s newest resident was beautiful and brunette, with equal doses of spunk and timidity to spice things up. She was very close to home, though, which posed a whole new level of risk. As did the fact that she lived with an ex-cop.

Was he ready to up the stakes?

CHAPTER NINE

Jack sat on the padded table, legs extended, hands gripping the sides.

“Pull,” Barry, physical therapist from hell and sadist extraordinaire, ordered Jack in a tone that would’ve impressed Sergeant Hulka. Oversized biceps bulged beneath the sleeves of his skin-tight polo. Barry’s juice of choice probably wasn’t orange.

Jack braced himself for the pain and pulled his heel toward his butt. Bending his knee should not be this difficult. Surgery number two had been about as useful as a cap gun in a shootout.

“Come on, Jack.” Barry would’ve wowed ‘em in the Spanish Inquisition. “Harder.”

Jack panted. Sweat rolled down his temple into his eye. But no amount of willpower could make his knee bend any farther. Barry “helped” him, putting one hand behind Jack’s knee and grasping his ankle. Bright colors exploded behind Jack’s eyelids as the scar tissue gave another inch.

“Not bad.” Barry nodded with satisfaction. “At your age, you can’t expect miracles.”

Dick.

“Now let’s straighten it.”

Oh, goody.
Jack bit back a gasp as he pushed his foot toward the foot of the table. His lungs worked like a fireplace bellows, and his kneecap exploded in pain. Unbelievably, extending his leg hurt more than fucking bending it.

“That’s great, Jack.” The condescending little shit patted Jack on the shoulder. “Good job today.”

Great
wasn’t the word on the tip of Jack’s tongue.

“All right. Let’s get you up and moving.”

Jack swung his legs over the side of the table and lowered his feet to the floor. At least he was motivated for the next part of his PT session. His career might be in the tank, but he would walk again. And he’d do it without the effing cane.