She Can Run (25 page)

Branigan Road stretched in both directions, empty and black, slicing through the thick forest. He waited until Mary Ann turned her back to him to point out which tire had gone flat. Like he didn’t know. She was still dressed in her waitress uniform. The sneakers weren’t exactly a turn-on, but the white skirt that ended just above her knees gave him a nice view of her smooth, tanned legs. And the subservient images the uniform inspired more than made up for the shoes. In an instant, he was as hard as the metal bar he slid from his pocket.

With a quiver of excitement, he brought the bar down on her head, catching her body as she pitched forward. She sagged in his arms. He ducked under her and pulled her torso over his shoulder. She was smaller than Amelia had been, and he had no trouble balancing her weight. A few seconds later, she was curled on the tarp in his trunk like she was taking a nap. Aside from the blood dripping down her temple, she looked quite peaceful.

This was the dangerous part of the abduction—which naturally made it the most exciting as well. If anyone happened by at this moment, the game would be up. Mary Ann’s unconscious body in his trunk would be tough to explain. Of course, he was prepared to kill anyone who stumbled on him at this vulnerable moment, but then he’d have to move on. His evening would be totally ruined.

Mary Ann groaned. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Patience
. There were details that needed to be addressed before he could indulge.

He glanced up and down the dark road. No cars in sight. He drew a hypodermic from his kit and measured out enough Ace to keep her out of it for a while, at least until he got her home and set up his work area. He kept the dose light. He didn’t want to kill her accidentally. He wanted to kill her on purpose. As a final safety measure, he looped duct tape around her wrists and ankles. There was nothing worse than opening the trunk and having a pissed-off woman launch herself at him. Been there, done that.

Leaning over, he scooped the blood from her face with a small spatula, then placed it in a Ziploc bag with a couple of long, dark hairs plucked directly from Mary Ann’s head. He closed the trunk. Crickets chirped from the surrounding forest as he went around to the front of his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. His luck couldn’t have been better. When he’d jammed the nail into her tire, he’d gambled the tire wouldn’t go flat in the parking lot. On the other hand, it could have held until she got home to Robert. There was no way he’d take the chance of that monster seeing him anywhere near his wife. Robert could and would break him into little pieces.

But fate had blessed him, and the tire had made it just to the outskirts of town. In fact, this section of road was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

He patted the baggie in his chest pocket. He had one more small matter to take care of before he could truly enjoy his time with Mary Ann. One more detail to ensure no one would suspect him. Then she was all his.

He started the engine and pulled out onto the road, humming the theme to
Gilligan’s Island
under his breath.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Beth pushed her cart into the checkout lane at Wal-Mart and began pulling items out of the blue plastic cart. A bathing suit for each child, socks, two pairs of clearance jeans, and a paperback for Ben hit the conveyer belt, along with a small package of Polly Pocket dolls for Katie, just like the ones she and Jack’s nieces had played with at Quinn’s. An indulgence for sure, but Beth had just cashed her first paycheck. An extra three dollars wasn’t going to break the bank. The smile the purchase brought to her daughter’s face was worth every penny.

Katie refused to allow the cashier to put her package in a bag and clutched the box against her chest as they walked across the steaming parking lot. Overhead the midday sun cut through a hazy sky.

They stowed the bags behind the driver’s seat of the estate’s extended cab pickup, which Jack had insisted she drive when he learned the air conditioner in her station wagon didn’t work. She’d protested, but as they climbed into the stifling cab, she was grateful.

She’d avoided Jack all morning, along with the discussion he would want to have about last night. She should regret what had passed between them, but she couldn’t. He’d shown her that passion was still possible. In fact, it had almost been a reality. But they had no future together. Jack was a good man, and hurting him wasn’t right. What happened last night couldn’t happen again.

She and Ben rolled down their windows to let some of the heat escape as she turned the key. The truck was only a few years old and started on the first try. They were going to get spoiled.

She snorted. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been driving a Mercedes. And look how that had turned out for her.

She could use Jack’s truck for now, but what would she do if her station wagon died on her? A new car would eat up her entire emergency fund, and she had no way to replenish it. She had a little money in the bank from before her marriage, but there was no way she could access her savings. Richard would be monitoring her bank accounts, and he’d find her in a heartbeat.

“Is your seat belt fastened?” Beth glanced in the rearview mirror at her daughter.

“Yes, Mommy.” In her booster seat in the center of the second row, Katie held her unopened box tightly, as if it were filled with precious gems instead of three-inch dolls. “I’m hungry.”

Beth checked the dashboard clock and met her daughter’s gaze in the mirror. “We’ll be home in a bit. Would you like a grilled cheese for lunch today?”

Katie smiled and nodded.

Ben leaned over and changed the radio station as Beth pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, then merged onto the interstate. Metrostation blared from the speakers, and Ben’s head began to bob like a dashboard dog. Beth reached down and lowered the volume to slightly below deafening. Ben shot her a grin, and she smiled back at him. The ordinariness of the exchange felt alien and almost blissfully normal at the same time.

A few miles later, she exited onto the narrow, mountainous road that led toward Westbury. Cool air began to rush from the vents, and she sighed in relief as it washed over her sweat-dampened face.

She slowed the truck as they approached a sharp bend in the road. Vertically-sheered-off rock extended up the left side of the road and plummeted on the right. She glanced in her rearview mirror and gasped when she glimpsed a shiny black sedan bearing down on them. Beth stepped on the gas, but the car continued to gain ground until it was just a few feet behind them. She couldn’t go any faster, not with the curve just ahead.

Suddenly, the pickup jerked forward. The sedan had slammed into the truck’s rear bumper.

“Mom!”

Beth had no time to respond to Ben’s shout. She clenched the steering wheel and focused on keeping the truck centered on the narrow road. Metal crunched, and the truck lurched forward again as the sedan rear-ended it a second time. The wheel jerked in her hands, and the truck hurtled toward the guardrail and the fifty-foot drop on the other side.

Beth pulled the wheel hard to the left, crossing into the oncoming lane. Tires squealed. Katie screamed. With a loud metallic scrape, the truck lurched sideways against the rock wall. Beth fought to keep the vehicle straight as the sedan whipped by in a black blur. Before Beth could catch her breath, a horn blew. She swerved back into the proper lane, barely avoiding a head-on collision.

The wheel wobbled under her hands. The truck’s engine sputtered.

After they cleared the bend, the road widened and Beth pulled over. Her chest constricted, and nausea rose into the back of her throat. She exhaled the breath she’d been unconsciously holding. Hands shaking, chest heaving, she looked both her children over. Ben’s knuckles were white and his face, pale. In the backseat, her daughter cried. Beth’s pounding heart ached for her. She took a deep, steadying breath.

“It’s all right, baby.” As soon as she was certain her legs would hold her up, she’d get the kids out of the car.

Katie’s voice shook. “What happened, Mommy?”

Beth cleared her throat and attempted to control her voice. It came out smooth enough, but a little higher than normal. “Just an accident. We’re all fine. Nobody got hurt and that’s all that matters.” Except that Jack’s truck was trashed. She looked through the windshield. The hood was buckled on one side, and steam hissed out from underneath. The damage to the side had to be worse than what she could see from the driver’s seat, and she didn’t even want to think about the back of the truck. She turned the car off.

“Accident?” Ben’s brows were knitted, but he said nothing else in front of his sister.

Before Beth could answer, a white Toyota pulled up behind them. An elderly woman got out and walked up to Beth’s window. “Is everyone all right, dear?” At Beth’s nod, the woman continued, “I saw the whole thing. Probably some drunk. I called the police on my cell.” She held out one blue-veined hand for Beth to shake. “I’m Ellen Wheelan. Let’s get you all out of there.”

It took fifteen minutes for a police car to drive up. Beth left the children in Ellen’s car, where the older woman had insisted they take refuge from the blistering heat. Despite the humidity, Beth was shivering.

Meeting her in front of Jack’s pickup, Lieutenant Winters introduced himself and asked for her documents.

She wiped her palms on her jeans before she handed them over, hoping her nervous appearance would be attributed to the accident. The gun strapped to her ankle seemed to have increased in weight and size since the policeman arrived. Thankfully, the officer seemed distracted and only gave her license a cursory glance as he wrote the numbers down.

“I’m sorry it took so long, ma’am.” He glanced down at the truck’s registration and raised a brow. “How do you know Mr. O’Malley?”

“I’m the estate’s caretaker.”

He took her statement and that of Mrs. Wheelan, filled out several forms, and snapped pictures of the scene and the truck. A low whistle came from his pursed lips as he scanned the damage to Jack’s truck. “Could take Earl hours to get here with the flatbed, ma’am, and I’m not comfortable leaving you all here. If it’s OK with you, I’ll drop you at Mr. O’Malley’s.”

On Branigan Road, Jack pulled his Explorer onto the grass behind a line of official vehicles and a local news van. Yellow crime scene tape defined a large area around a four-door blue Corolla parked on the gravel shoulder. A state police CSI unit sat twenty yards or so behind the Toyota. Technicians buzzed around the vehicle.

A large group of people had gathered at the edge of the woods. Search volunteers. Jack’s stomach clenched. He spotted Police Chief Mike O’Connell at the head of the crowd, talking and gesturing. Jack scanned the faces, recognizing some of the volunteers.

His cane sank into the ground as he walked over and stood a few feet behind the police chief.

Mike divided the volunteers into four groups, assigned areas on an aerial map, and handed out walkie-talkies. He gave the usual
if-you-find-anything-don’t-touch-it
speech. On the side, Todd Foster restrained a pair of baying bloodhounds. Mary Ann’s husband, Robert Spencer, white-knuckled something pale pink and fuzzy. A sweater?

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and immediately wished he’d had the chance to apologize to Beth this morning. But he couldn’t blame her for avoiding him.

Robert passed the item to Todd with shaking hands. At a signal from a crime-scene tech, Todd led the dogs to the Toyota and gave them a whiff of the sweater. Some initial baying and excitement right around the vehicle petered out as the animals failed to pick up a scent. Todd widened the circle, spiraling outward. On the grassy area between the road and the trees, Robert vibrated with anger and desperation, his empty hands curled into bowling-ball-sized fists, his red-rimmed eyes bleak and frantic. Jack took in his pasty skin and disheveled appearance. Instinct told him Robert didn’t have anything to do with his wife’s disappearance, although Mike would have to investigate him. Significant other always headed the list in a disappearance—or murder.

Unless the police already had another suspect in mind.

Mike dispersed the groups into the woods, then approached Jack. “Thanks for coming, Jack. I could really use your expertise here.”

Jack glanced around at the small army of local and county uniforms. “Anytime. What do you have so far?”

“Robert called me at eleven thirty last night. Mary Ann was due home around ten thirty or so. She’d worked an extra half shift at the diner because the manager, Carl Johnson, fired the other waitress. Mary Ann clocked out at ten oh five. When she didn’t show up at home by eleven, Robert went looking for her. He drove the route she took home from work and found her car here.” Mike nodded toward the Toyota. “Right front tire’s flat. No sign of Mary Ann.”

The chief paused. “Except for a few drops of blood, her purse, and her cell phone on the ground next to the car.”

Jack glanced over at the forest, where Todd was walking his dogs along the tree line. His placid, uninterested dogs. Jack’s stomach curled into a fist; acid rose into his throat. He lowered his voice. “Mary Ann didn’t walk away from here.”