She Can Run

by Melinda Leigh

  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.”

  Mike’s gaze was also on the dogs. “I know.”

  “Search is probably pointless.”

  “I know that, too.” Mike shoved a hand through his hair. “But they have to do something.”

  Judging from the abundance of personnel already in place for a woman missing barely fourteen hours, Mike had obviously come to the same conclusion as Jack. There was only one possibility that would garner this much attention this quickly. The police were operating under the assumption that Mary Ann had been abducted by the Riverside Killer. No one was ready to say the words until there was more evidence, though, especially since there was a news crew lurking about. The media loved a serial killer.

  The chief took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “You don’t think I’m crazy pulling out all the stops this early?”

  “No.” Jack shook his head. “Setup’s close enough to justify it. Victim profile fits.”

  “When I worked in the city, we wouldn’t even have filled out a form for two days.”

  “This isn’t the city. Unless she sprouted wings, either someone picked her up or someone grabbed her. With the blood, I’d bet on force.”

  “God, I was hoping you’d disagree with me.” Mike shoved a hand through his hair in frustration.

  “Sorry. What’s your gut tell you?”

  Mike huffed. “It’s not happy. What are the chances that the Riverside Killer just happened to be driving along this completely empty stretch of road this late at night at the same exact time as Mary Ann?”

  “He’s been working his way north.”

  “Yeah, but I spoke with the FBI profiler. The Killer has always operated in depressed urban areas or along interstates, places where he’s likely to encounter lone women. He doesn’t stalk, he ambushes. He’s never abducted anyone off a road as out of the way as this one. The scene fits, except for the location. According to the profiler, this is not his typical hunting ground.”

  Jack didn’t answer; he just sighed. “Which means it’s either a copycat, an unrelated crime, or…”

  “The Killer’s one of us,” Mike finished his sentence. “He passed Mary Ann and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

  “Feds on their way?”

  “Yeah. Any way I could talk you into sitting in on that? I haven’t worked on anything bigger than a domestic disturbance or an overdose in ten years.” Mike swallowed and stared at the Toyota, which was being winched onto a flatbed. “Can’t screw this up.”

  Neither one of them was going to say it, but if they were right, the chances of seeing Mary Ann alive were slim no matter what they did. If she’d been grabbed by the Riverside Killer, he didn’t hold onto his victims for more than a day or so. He’d already had her for—Jack checked his watch—almost fifteen hours.

  Mike’s second in command, Pete Winters, pulled up in his patrol car. “Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?” The lieutenant stepped out of his car and hitched up his belt. Pete wasn’t exactly fat, just short and square with a bulldog face to match. “I just dropped your caretaker and her kids off at your place. Someone ran them off the road and damaged your truck.”

  Jack snapped to attention. “Are they all right?”

  Pete nodded. “Just a little shook up. She barely missed a head-on, though. Got real lucky.” The officer’s eyes scanned the figures of a search group combing the edge of forest. “I’ll get Earl out there later to get your vehicle.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The truck’s not important right now.” Jack shook his stubby hand. “Thanks, Pete. I appreciate you taking them home.” Jack turned back to the chief. “Mike, I gotta check on them.”

  Mike waved him off. “Go. Make sure they’re OK. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Jack was already moving toward his truck. “Call me when you have a definite time for the meeting.”

  “Will do.”

  Jack’s stomach rolled as he floored the gas pedal. His lungs felt like they couldn’t inflate all the way. Pete had said they were fine, but until he saw them with his own eyes…

  He turned
onto the private road a little too fast. The SUV fishtailed. Straightening the vehicle, Jack eased off the accelerator and took a deep, shaky breath.

  Calm down. You’re going to scare the crap out of them.

  Two minutes later, he parked at the head of the circular drive and bolted up the walk. He tried the knob, but the door was locked. Smart but unusual. Had Beth already heard about Mary Ann’s disappearance?

  Jack went around to the back of the house and walked into the kitchen. Ben was at the kitchen table. Katie sat on the floor next to Henry, one arm draped over the dog’s back. The little girl’s eyes were puffy, but she didn’t look upset now. In front of the stove, Beth flipped a sandwich in a frying pan. The kitchen smelled like grilled cheese.

  “What happened? Is everybody OK?”

  Katie jumped to her feet and latched onto Jack’s leg. She murmured into his thigh, “Mom wrecked your truck.”

  Jack leaned down and picked her up. She wrapped all four limbs around him, and for a few seconds, he just held on. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the floral scent of No More Tangles in her hair.

  He leaned back and scanned her for any sign she’d been in a car accident. Nothing. Relief flooded through his body, making him light-headed. “That’s OK. The truck’s not important. As long as nobody got hurt.” He set her back down on her feet and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

  Katie stared up at him. “We got to ride in a police car.”

  “Was it exciting?”

  “Not really. It was stinky inside. Mom made us wash our hands really good when we got home.”

  Jack’s mouth twitched. The child almost made him forget the horrors of the day for a few seconds. They could have been killed. All three of them. The depth of his feelings for this small family hit him like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. He pressed a fist to the burning sensation rising from his abdomen.

  Beth slid two sandwiches onto plates. She hadn’t said a word and avoided making eye contact. Was she still upset about last night?

  Jack caught Ben’s eye and nodded toward the doorway. “Why don’t you two take your lunches into the living room and watch cartoons?”

  Katie snatched her plate before her mother could veto Jack and invoke the no-television-in-the-afternoon rule. She turned to call for Henry, but the dog was already following her—and her sandwich.

  Ben, however, didn’t budge from the table. He had a stubborn set to his jaw that mimicked his mother’s.

  Beth slid his plate onto the table then returned to the stove to wipe up the counter. As soon as the door swung shut behind her daughter, Beth spoke without facing Jack. “I’m sorry about the truck. You can take the cost of repairs out of my pay.” She picked a cup of coffee up off the counter and wrapped both hands around the mug as if she were trying to warm them.

  “I don’t give a damn about the truck, Beth. You could have been hurt.” And by hurt he meant killed. Jack raised his eyebrows at Ben, silently asking his opinion.

  Ben was more than happy to oblige. “The guy did it on purpose. He hit us more than once and didn’t stop to see if we were OK or anything.”

  “We have no way of knowing that for sure.” Beth pulled out a chair and sat down, deflating as she rubbed a hand across her face. Her voice sounded tired, and she didn’t sound like she believed her own argument.

  “Did you get a description of the car?” Jack asked both of them, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Beth. Let her try to avoid eye contact when he was sitting two feet away.

  She shook her head. “Not enough to be of any use. It was a black sedan. I don’t know what make or model, and I didn’t catch a single digit of the license plate number. The windows were tinted.”

  “Ben, could you go and check on Katie?” Jack asked.

  Ben shot him an injured look but he went.

  “First of all, are you sure none of you needs to go to the ER?” Jack knew Beth wouldn’t hesitate to take the kids to a doctor but that she’d ignore her own injuries.

  “We’re OK. Not even a scratch.” She met his gaze squarely. No visible bruises. Her eyes looked clear, except for a defeated fatigue that seemed to have aged her ten years since breakfast.

  “OK then, second piece of business. Mary Ann Spencer disappeared last night on her way home from working her shift at the diner.”

  Beth’s eyes opened wide, and she drew in a sharp breath. Jack’s hand itched to reach across the table and grab hers, but after last night, he knew better. He could, however, make that right.

  “I’m sorry about last night, Beth. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It won’t happen again.”

  She didn’t respond, but sadness flashed in her eyes. Jack wondered if it was because of the kiss or because he wasn’t going to be kissing her again. Clearly, she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to get you a cell phone. Until we know what happened here and the truck is fixed, if you need to leave the estate, please let me take you. I don’t want you getting stranded in that wagon.”

  “She just disappeared? No clues?” She didn’t argue with him, but she didn’t agree to his request either. Should he push?

  “Nothing.” Jack suddenly had a vision of Mary Ann’s blood on the street, and his paranoia grew. Someone had tried to kill Beth today. “I was at the scene. They’re searching. Called out the dogs and everything, but it doesn’t look good.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  Jack let her question go unanswered.

  “You don’t need to stay here with us, Jack, if you’d rather be helping with the search. We’re OK.”

  “I’m not very useful in that capacity anymore.” Jack glanced down at his leg. “But I promised the police chief I’d be available to meet with the FBI later.”

  “Are you sure?” Beth stared down into her coffee. Why was she so anxious to get rid of him? What was she planning?

  Jack nodded. “I don’t think they’re going to find her today.” There was no way he was leaving her alone, not when whomever she was hiding from may have found her. “Beth, promise me—”

  “I hear Katie.” Beth jumped up and rushed toward the door.

  Jack let her go, but he wasn’t fooled. She hadn’t promised to stay with him.

  A knock signaled Sean’s arrival. Jack opened the French doors. His cousin stepped into the kitchen, briefcase in hand.

  Mrs. Harris looked up from loading the dishwasher. “You need something to eat, Sean? There’s some roast beef left over from dinner.”

  His cousin shook his head. “No, thanks, ma’am. I already ate.”

  Jack put his hand on Sean’s shoulder and steered him toward the swinging door. “We’ll be in the study going over the new security system.”

  “No smoking in there, boys.” Mrs. Harris gave them her don’t-screw-with-me look. “There’re children in the house.”

  Jack suppressed a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And spare your livers. Go easy on the scotch.”

  Even though Jack hadn’t smoked in the study, the room still reeked of premium cigars. Four decades of indulgence wasn’t going to fade overnight. He could have the place thoroughly cleaned, he supposed, but Jack found the odor familiar and comforting.

  “Sorry, would have been here earlier, but I stopped by the station to see Mike.” And on that note, Sean stopped at the credenza to pour two fingers of scotch into a glass. He tipped the bottle toward Jack.

  “Just a short one,” Jack answered. “I was there when he cleared her husband, Robert. He get anything else yet?” Robert Spencer’s brother had been with him the whole night. Jack had also sat through the meeting with the FBI, but hadn’t learned anything more about the Riverside Killer than what Wes had already told him. Mike was running a full-scale investigation in case Mary Ann hadn’t been taken by the serial killer, but no one had much hope she was still alive.

  “He brought Carl Johnson and Will Martin in for questioning.” Sean passed Jack a crystal tumbler with a ge
nerous “short” shot of single malt.

  Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Based on what?”

  “If Carl hadn’t asked her to work late, Mary Ann would’ve been home at six.” Sean raised his glass.

  Jack tipped his glass and took a small swallow. The liquid slipped down his throat in a warm and welcome rush. “Yeah, but wasn’t he still at the diner when she got off shift?”

  Sean shook his head. “Night manager came on at ten. Carl left right after Mary Ann. Went home alone. No alibi.”

  “If he’s innocent, sucks to be him,” Jack said.

  “He’s a prick anyway.” Sean shrugged. “Mike knows the connection’s tenuous, but he’s got to cover his bases. And he’ll grasp at any available straw to find Mary Ann.”

  “What about Will?” Jack sipped his drink. Scotch went down way too easily these days.

  “Seems someone told Robert about that incident at the diner last week. You remember? Mary Ann threatened to tell Robert that Martin was buggin’ her.”

  Jack nodded. “I remember. Seems thin, though.”

  “Not to Robert.”

  “Good point. How’d Will take it?”

  Sean shook his head. “Don’t know. Mike and the FBI guy took him back. I didn’t stick around to see how it played out. Figured it was going to take a while.”

  “What do you think about Will and Carl being on the short list?” Jack asked.

  Sean shrugged. “Will’s got a history, but he’s not smart or subtle enough to be the actual Riverside Killer. Don’t know Carl all that well. I’d say he fits the profile better. He’s quiet, lives alone, and thrives on the misery of others. But grabbing his own employee would make him the dumbest serial killer in history.”

  Unfortunately Jack agreed with him. “Either one of them could be copycatting the Killer, though.”

  “True. Or it could be some other white male between twenty and forty who lives alone or otherwise fits the general serial killer profile.” Sean finished his drink.