She Can Run (36 page)

Unless they wanted to change the name of Capital Hill to Brokeback Hill.

Now the only question was how to get a message to Stafford. If James could get the former senator to lay off Beth, she’d be OK. James glared at the distinguished-looking man sucking up media attention on the screen. A few full-color glossies of Richard riding his aide like a show pony would keep Stafford Baker off Beth’s case forever.

She’d be safe.

James paused. The dream hadn’t come for a few days. Maybe she already was safe. Only time would tell. Of course, his gift only honed in on violence. He doubted he’d be warned if she were going to be arrested.

James slid a disc into his laptop and clicked on backup. By the time he’d showered, the disc would be ready. Then he’d be ready to contact Stafford. He could use one of his anonymous webmail accounts. No. An e-mail could be intercepted by staff. He eyed the disposable cell phone he’d picked up at the mall. Untraceable. Probably the best way to go.

He stripped off his shirt on the way to the bathroom and then stepped out of his shorts, dumping the contents of his pockets onto the vanity. Beth’s silver pendant gleamed in the light. His hand stretched for it automatically. In the interest of her safety, he’d gone for zero contact since they’d separated. His gift was the only way he could check up on her.

The vision slammed into him before he even touched the silver disk. Darkness and fear instantly swamped his senses, blocking out his sight. A room opened in front of him, dimly lit by a bare bulb in the ceiling. Plywood covered a few small rectangular windows high up on walls of raw cinderblock.

In the dream he couldn’t move. He twisted his body on a flat, raised surface. Pain lanced up his arms and through his head and face. He wasn’t paralyzed, but his limbs were restrained. Light glinted off steel. The blade of a knife arched slowly toward him, nicking the skin on his chest. Blood trickled.

Blind, James tripped over the lip of the shower. His feet went out from under him, and he pitched forward, striking his head on the marble floor.

His last thought before blackness descended was that he’d failed.

He was going to die before he could save Beth. Pain and violence were headed her way. Now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Beth set her tea mug on the patio table. “I’m really not up for it. Sorry.” The police chief’s morning visit had sapped all her strength.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jack had hovered over her all afternoon. His concern was out of love, but a half hour alone was what she really wanted. She gave him a reassuring smile. “I haven’t showered in three days. I’m cranky, dirty, and tired. Definitely not fit for human company.”

Jack leaned over and pressed his lips gently on the unmarred side of her mouth. “You still taste good.”

“Thankfully I can still brush my teeth.” Richard had only bruised her jaw and cheekbone. The resulting swelling and variegated collage of purples were ugly but temporary. Two weeks or so and she’d be good as new. Other than the localized pain in her arms and face, plus some additional body bruises from her wrestling match with Richard, she felt surprisingly fit. The pain wasn’t anything a couple of ibuprofen couldn’t handle. If only she could be assured the rest of her problems could be just as easily solved.

“Stitches’ll be out in five more days. Then you can shower all you want. I’ll help.” A spark lit up his eyes. He seemed determined to keep her spirits up, and had spent a good part of the day on the phone with Carlyle, who was confident his team of lawyers could handle Stafford Baker’s vendetta.

Beth had her doubts, but she kept them to herself. “I’ll bet.” Putting one hand on the side of his face, she kissed him back. “I can’t wait.”

He straightened and frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

“Jack, you’re driving the kids to Quinn’s house to spend the night. I doubt you’ll be gone an hour. Please, the kids are excited, and they really need a little normal. It would be wonderful for them to get away from all this craziness for a while. Plus, I don’t want them with us tomorrow for the press conference.” Quinn had promised the TV at his house would be unplugged at nine o’clock the next morning, when the press conference was scheduled to air.

Carlyle had decided that it was high time Beth started using the press instead of letting Stafford Baker get all the media attention. And her lawyer insisted Beth get on television while her face was still battered and bruised. She didn’t like the idea of letting the world in on her most private shame, but Carlyle was right. If she didn’t speak up, people would naturally believe Baker. And geez, she couldn’t look more vulnerable and pathetic than she did right now.

“I could get Sean to come and get them.”

“That’s silly.”

“I guess you’re right.” Jack sighed. “You have your cell phone on you, right?”

Beth nodded and tapped the front pocket of the sweatshirt. “Yup.”

“Need anything else?”

“No. I’m fine.” She shook her head. “Thank you. The kids’ve been cooped up too long. And they’re looking forward to seeing the other kids. Especially Katie.” Sean’s girls were also spending the night at Quinn’s house. Jack’s cousins were treating her and her kids like they were now part of their family. If only life could be that simple.

“OK. Mrs. Harris is inside. I’ll be right back.”

Ben and Katie slipped through the doors and hurried across the patio. Katie latched onto Jack’s thigh. The little girl had been bouncing off the walls since breakfast, when Jack asked her if she wanted to go to the sleepover. Ben was trying to play it cool, but he’d packed his bag five minutes after Jack made the announcement.

Both kids kissed her good-bye and ran down the back lawn to the garage. At her side Henry whined.

“Come on.” Jack slapped his thigh. “You can ride along.”

With an enthusiastic “woof” the dog raced toward the kids.

“Wait up.” Cane in hand, Jack limped after them as fast as he could manage.

Beth’s breath caught in her throat. The scene was painfully ordinary. Almost as if they were a real family. Jack would be a terrific father for her kids, and he seemed to want the job. If only…

A couple of minutes later Jack drove around the house. The truck disappeared.

Beth leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes against the slanting light of the setting sun, which was dipping a bit earlier now that September had arrived. A warm, dry breeze rustled the leaves on the huge oak in the center of the lawn and sent the smell of freshly cut grass wafting across the patio. She’d have to address the issue of school for the kids. She’d already looked into homeschooling, but hopefully there’d be no need for it soon.

“Hey, Beth.”

She shaded her eyes and squinted. “Hi, Jeff. What’s up?”

“Is Jack home?” Her neighbor slouched and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to ask him something.”

“No. He took the kids to his cousin’s house.”

“They should enjoy that.” Jeff smiled.

“What did you want to ask him? He shouldn’t be too long.”

“I was going to get him to call the vet. I was just looking at Lucy’s stitches. The cut might be getting infected. Do you want to take a look?” Jeff narrowed his eyes at her and frowned. “You’re probably not up to it. I’ll just call Doc White. You look tired. I shouldn’t’ve bothered you.” He turned away.

“No. Wait. A stroll down to the barn is just what I need.” Beth stood and stretched. Seeing the horses just might take her mind off her troubles. “I’m going a little stir-crazy. I’ll just let Mrs. Harris know.” She stepped to the door and opened it. The whir of a vacuum drowned out her attempt to call the housekeeper. “Oh, well. We won’t be long.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Nothing wrong with my legs. I just can’t touch anything.” She raised a sleeve to reveal the edge of a bandage.

“OK, then.”

They strolled across the back lawn and along the path to the barn. Movement loosened her muscles. By the time they stepped into the barn aisle, she was tired, but her spirits were up.

Jeff led Lucy out of her stall and removed the bandage on her foreleg. “What do you think?”

The barn was dim. Beth bent over to get a closer look. The cut looked just a little red around the edges. “I see what you mean.”

Pain exploded in the back of her head and everything went black.

Today was Jeff’s lucky day. Seriously. He’d go right out and buy a lottery ticket—if he didn’t already have plans for the night.

He actually
had
gone up to the house to ask Jack if he wanted him to call the vet. But Jack hadn’t been home. Jeff’s hope had bloomed like a bloodred rose. When Beth hadn’t bothered to go into the house to tell Mrs. Harris where she was going, her fate had been sealed. Destiny decreed that tonight was the night.

He’d been prepared to wait weeks, or months even, for the right opportunity.

Jeff placed Beth in the back of his jeep and hurried around to the driver’s seat. His heart skipped with excitement as he turned the key and shifted into first gear. Despite his eagerness, he kept the jeep’s speed slow so he didn’t jostle Beth around too much. She was damaged enough. Nothing he could do about that, though. Her spirit wasn’t broken. That was the important thing.

With the thought that Beth had shot her husband fresh in his mind, he stopped the jeep in his yard, reached back, and patted her down. She was dressed in ugly sweat pants and a gigantic hoodie. The outfit wasn’t flattering like her usual worn, snug jeans, but he had to admit, it made searching her for a weapon easy.

She wasn’t armed. Why would she be? Her husband was no longer a threat. Everyone thought the Riverside Killer was in jail. Big LOL on that major coup.

Everyone in town thought Chief O’Connell walked on water, but Jeff had proven Mike was just a big dunce.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the house. He wouldn’t fling this woman over his shoulder like a sack of grain. No, Beth would be treated with reverence.

Shifting her weight, he unlocked the front door and went straight for the cellar. His workspace was meticulous. While he hadn’t expected to have Beth so soon, he’d been prepared. Good to know those years in the Boy Scouts hadn’t been a total waste.

He set her down on the stainless-steel table and took a moment to just look at her. Even with the bruises and swelling on the side of her face, she was beautiful. He turned the damaged side of her face to the table so he could view her perfect profile. Lovely.

The fact that she was smart and strong heightened his excitement. Beth possessed a rare strength that singled her out from the rest. A spirit he couldn’t wait to test. Finally, a challenge worthy of all his years of practice.

It felt like Christmas in September. Beth was a great big present just waiting to be unwrapped. But just like Christmas, he’d have to wait until the right time. There was no point in starting until she was fully conscious.

With a contented sigh, he secured her ankles and wrists to the four corners of the table with the leather straps already in place.

Now he just had to bide his time until she woke. Shouldn’t take long. He hadn’t had to use a tranquilizer on her since it had been such a short ride.

He jogged up the steps to the kitchen for a bottle of water and an energy bar. He’d have to hurry. She wouldn’t be unconscious for long.

James opened his eyes and quickly shut them against the bright bathroom light. His head throbbed. Raising a hand, he located the source of the pain: a fist-sized goose egg on his forehead. James winced. Prodding it turned out to be a bad idea.

He moved his arms and legs. A few mild tweaks told him nothing was broken except his pride and his stupid head. How the hell had he fallen?

He levered his torso up and leaned back against the wall. The marble room spun around him. The floor was like ice under his bare ass.

A vague feeling of panic crawled up the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.

Beth’s pendant glinted from the vanity. The vision came back in a whoosh. He pushed himself to his feet and swayed. Nausea rose in his throat, and he sagged down to the floor again.