Dorie was deathly pale. Her hands shook as she reached into the drawer. Several coins dropped to the floor.
“Drop anything else and I’ll kill you,” he warned.
His warning only made Dorie shake more.
An older man and woman approached then, the woman pushed a cart full of groceries.
The man with the gun stepped out from behind the candy display where they could see all of him. In order to do that, he had to step closer to Justine.
She tried to distance herself from him, but he grabbed her shirt with his free hand as he waved the gun in his other.
Justine caught the subtle scent of some outdoorsy aftershave and her stomach did a somersault as she worked to swallow past the burn of bile.
“Stop right there and stand next to this pretty lady!”
“What the—” the older man began. The woman with him merely gasped.
“Shut up!” the robber ordered, shoving the gun toward the older man.
He still grasped her shirt, but when the older couple stepped up beside her, he must have been satisfied that they posed no threat and released her.
Only then did Justine breathe. She also did a quick mental evaluation and was glad to find her bladder still held. Dorie emptied the cash drawer and put all the bills into a plastic grocery bag. A few fluttered to the floor.
“I’ll take your jewelry, too,” the man with the gun barked at Dorie. “And make it snappy!” He pointed his gun at her, as if to remind her it was there.
Dorie didn’t hesitate to toss her watch and the necklace she wore into the bag.
The man snatched the bag from the counter and turned again toward Justine and the older couple. “I’ll take all your jewelry, too, and your wallets!”
The woman started to protest, but the older stopped her. “Just give it to him, Marion.” He slid off his watch and dropped it into the bag before tossing in his wallet.
Justine’s hands shook. She couldn’t get her wedding ring off. As if the token of love that went along with that promise of until death do us part held its own act of defiance, it refused to slip over her knuckle.
“Come on, bitch.” He came closer with the gun, and Justine felt the cold metal of it touch her under her chin. “I can cut it off after you’re dead.”
She couldn’t stop the tears this time and felt the warmth on her cheeks in contrast to the cold metal. “I can get it. Just give me a minute,” she forced out.
“I’ll give you ten seconds.”
She stared into his eyes and thought he would shoot her long before her ten seconds were up. She wet her knuckle with her own saliva and slid the ring off. “There!” She tossed it into the bag, telling herself it was only a ring. Besides, after today, she might not even need it.
She tried to push that horrid thought from her mind, but even with a gun threatening her life, she couldn’t force it away.
“Any money?” The man held the gun near her face, and Justine held her breath. At least it was no longer pressed against her chin. She tossed in the ten dollars she had in her jeans pocket. “Thanks, sweetcakes.” His voice was filled with mock politeness. He looked at her for a moment too long, and his drawn-out study reminded her of an alley cat getting ready to pounce on a cornered mouse.
He turned away.
And Justine let out a breath of relief to have him and his gun facing away from her. This certainly changed her outlook on life. After she got out of this, she thought she just might change careers. Dealing with a man like this—or thousands of others like him—up close and personal was a hell of a lot different that dealing with them in the courtroom.
He moved past the registers. It was over, Justine thought. Her sore knees felt like rubber. In another moment, he would be gone, and she could call Dan. She could forget about the flowered sofa. Hell, as long as Dan just held her, she didn’t care what he chose to put in the house. From here on out, she was determined to make her marriage the best it could be.
As soon as she called him, she could just sink to the floor and rest. Justine didn’t think she had the strength to drive home. She needed Dan, she needed his arms around her. They could talk about the baby later.
The man, with the gun in one hand and his bag of stash in the other, headed for the automatic door. Justine stared at him, knowing the others stared at him, too, and shared her relief.
He reached the door, and it automatically swung open.
Three police cars careened into the parking lot at the same time, their sirens screaming through the silence of the store.
Justine thought she was going to have to talk to Dan about the ill timing of the Landston Police Department. When the man with the fake beard turned back toward the interior of the store, his eyes blazing with anger, she prayed she’d get the chance.
“Who the fuck hit the alarm? Was it you?” He pointed his gun at Dorie.
“No-no, I didn’t,” Dorie stammered. “I swear!” She cowered against the thin wall of the small booth that held the register and covered her face with her hands. “Please, please don’t kill me.”
Justine thought of Mary Donnelson back in the deli, but said nothing.
After that, things happened quickly.
One minute, Justine was standing, just praying she could fall into Dan’s arms, and the next, the man with the gun grabbed her a second time and pressed the cold steel of his gun to her cheek.
Justine didn’t think anything could be worse than having that gun beneath her chin, but this was. Looking down and seeing the gray barrel pressed against her stopped her heart like a clenched fist. Then she realized her heart hadn’t stopped at all. No, it raced, and she heard the rush of each beat in her ears. She heard and felt every panting breath she took.
“I need some insurance to get out of here and get past all those blue uniforms out there, and it looks as if you’re it, sweetcakes.”
His hands on her were hot. In contrast, the cold touch of the barrel of the gun against her face was paralyzing. She thought she should say a silent prayer, but all she could mutter over and over was a desperate plea for him to let her go.
She found herself outside, in the late fall sun that suddenly felt strangely electrified, leaving the hair on the back of her neck standing, and she couldn’t remember taking the steps it took to get there. She recognized the three police officers all pointing their guns in her direction. They were her and Dan’s friends. They had been to her home, along with their wives. Steve Harlome, Dan’s best friend, was there, too. He ducked behind the open door of his police car. Even from this distance, Justine saw the shock and fear in his eyes.
Steve pulled back the hammer of his gun. Justine heard the small sound as if it had been the crack of a firecracker, and her heart skipped. Her knees were weak. She could hardly stand. Her stomach felt as if a hand with long pointed fingernails squeezed it so tight it hurt.
Steve was going to take a chance. He was going to take a shot at the robber with the gun. Justine wasn’t afraid Steve would miss. She knew of his accuracy when it came to target practice. He and Dan practiced on a regular basis. It was what would happen in that split second after he shot the maniac that held a gun to her face that worried her. Would the guy reflectively fire his own gun? She closed her eyes for what felt like an eternity, hoping that when she opened them again, it would all be over. That is, if she got the chance to open them. But she only succeeded in having more tears fall on her face.
No, it was far from over.
The robber must have sensed something because he suddenly twisted her around and used her as a shield, placing her directly in between himself and Steve. He went so far as to crouch down slightly and put his face next to hers. The feel of him made her skin crawl. She tried to pull away, but he held her too tightly.
Steve would have to shoot through her first, and thank God he was smart enough to see that. Justine wanted to scream at him as he lowered his gun, wanted to tell him to take the chance and not let her go with this guy.
The robber held her closer and dragged her across the parking lot. Justine couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from Steve’s. This could not be happening. This had to be a nightmare.
It wasn’t.
Yes, it was. It was a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake.
“Stop right there,” Steve tried. Justine heard so many emotions in his voice—worry and fear and frustration.
“Forget it,” the robber called back. “I’ll shoot her before I stop!”
Justine knew she couldn’t get into any car with this man. She knew if she did, her chances of ever coming back were slim to none. She stared at Steve, terrified that he might go ahead and take a chance at the robber, and equally terrified at the same time that he wouldn’t. The robber dragged her to the van she’d seen him climb out of before. She had to do something now. Her legs felt like water and were leaking strength like a sieve, and she finally let her weight drop to the asphalt. The pain of her fall shot up her legs, but she ignored it. It was all she could think to do, knowing if she tried to fight him, the gun might go off.
“Don’t think you’re getting away, sweetcakes.” He grabbed her ponytail, pulling her to her feet. She couldn’t help but cry out as the pain in her scalp met the pain from her knees somewhere in her middle. Justine’s throat burned, and for a long, heart-wrenching moment, she thought she was going to be sick right there in the parking lot.
She thought she had a chance as the robber let go of her ponytail. The hope that he would leave her there soared through her since he looked like he might jump into his van and attempt an escape.
Justine screamed as she saw she wasn’t going to be that lucky. He raised the gun, and Dan’s handsome face flashed through her mind. He was going to shoot her, she had no doubt. She was never going to see Dan again. She was never going to get the chance to make things up to him…
The robber’s words registered at the same time.
“You think I’m letting you go, sweetcakes? No way. Not when all this was for you.”
He struck her with the gun he held and pulled her into the van.
The blow to her nose was like a thousand fireworks going off in her head at the same time—a huge burst of light that left her dazed with enough pain she thought he’d cracked her skull. Her last coherent thought was Dan! Dan! You’ve always kept me safe. Where are you? I need you. Then she felt as if she floated. She heard voices yelling, but could make out no words before they faded to silence.
Justine couldn’t fight the darkness or the deep sense of doom that swallowed her. Like smoke, she felt herself swirl away with an unending sense of motion complete with a rumble of vibration beneath her. It took her to a place where only a dream could touch her.
Chapter 2
Six Years Ago
“Damn!”
The sound of the siren from the police car behind her sent a sick feeling to the pit of Justine’s stomach. She looked into the rear view mirror and let out a huff. She did not need this. Not today. Clifford Thompson, her boss, had been reluctant to let her try this case alone. Now she was going to be late for it. What a day for her alarm to not go off. She pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and stared out the windshield at the rain, hoping it wouldn’t freeze.
She didn’t recognize the cop who approached her window. He must be new. She read his nametag. D. Franklin, and wondered why the name sounded familiar.
Justine rolled down her window and let in the cold January wind and raindrops. Then she looked up into his eyes.
His eyes were gray, a smoky color of deep silver. For a long moment, she wasn’t sure if she were looking into the eyes of a gently-trained Siberian husky she would like to invite inside out of the cold, or a wolf determined to find his own way inside. He didn’t smile. It took her a moment to realize he’d asked her for her license and registration.
“Here you are, Officer Franklin,” she said.
He looked at her license. “Are you aware you were speeding?”
What could she say? To fess up would make her look as if she intentionally broke the law. She thought it was worse to play dumb and act as if she didn’t know. Lying wasn’t an option, not when she looked into this man’s eyes.
“I’m very sorry, Officer. I didn’t intend to speed,” she said, not directly answering his question. That, at least was the truth.
He looked so hard at her through the rain that he didn’t seem to notice. Justine again thought of a wolf. Her heart raced as she also realized he saw right through her play of words.
“That’s good news, Ms. Albright.” His voice held no hint of emotion. “Why are you in such a hurry when the roads are slick with freezing rain?”
“I’m late for work. I have my first—”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he interrupted as if he had no time for anything she might try and use as an excuse, despite the fact he’d asked.
He left, taking her license and registration with him and climbed back into his patrol car. Justine watched him through the rain in her mirror and wondered his age. His eyes revealed experience, but his build was strong and muscular. She guessed he had to be a bit older than she, between twenty-five and thirty.
“Who the hell cares how old he is?” she muttered out loud, talking to the mirror. “Or that he’s good looking? He’s probably back there writing out a ticket I don’t need.” Impatiently, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.
The cop climbed out of his car once again and approached her window.
“Here you are, ma’am,” he said as he handed her registration back to her. Then he handed her a clipboard. “Sign this please, at the bottom after the X.”
“A ticket?” she stared. “You’re giving me a ticket?”
“You were speeding.”
“Yes, but—” There was nothing she could think to say, and she hated that she was speechless. If it happened here, could it happen in the courtroom? Justine wondered if he gave her the ticket because he’d put her name into his computer and found out who her boss was, but she was afraid to come right out and ask.
“This is my first offense. What happened to a warning?” she tried. Justine thought if she was going to defend others and keep them out of trouble, she should be able to defend herself, but for her life she couldn’t think of any words of defense just then.
“There’s no rule that says every first offense gets a warning.” Officer Franklin’s gray eyes took her in, reminding her again of a wolf that was attempting to devour her.
“What about my license?” she asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. She hoped the cold rain ran down the back of his shirt.
“It’s held by the state until you appear in court,” he explained evenly.
Justine fought the urge to swear. “Do you have any idea who I am?” she began. “I work in the Pub—”
“I don’t care who you are,” he interrupted. “Or where you work.”
His words, as well as his interruption were enough to make her fume.
“No one is above the law here,” he finished.
She wasn’t going to win. Justine knew that. The ticket was already written. There was no un-writing it, and arguing with him further would only make her later.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, Officer,” she snapped. “I’m glad to hear that you are here to keep the citizens of Landston safe from criminals.” She took the pen he held and angrily scribbled her name across the line at the bottom of the ticket. The thought that perhaps Clifford could make this ticket go away passed through her mind. Just as quickly, she thought she’d probably be better off not telling Clifford about it at all. She handed the clipboard back to him.
He tore off the ticket and handed her the middle pink copy through the window.
Justine was aware of the warmth of his hand when his fingers brushed hers. “Thank you, Officer,” she forced out sweetly.
“Don’t let me stop you for speeding again,” he warned.
“I won’t,” she promised.
Officer D. Franklin looked down at her through the window and openly studied her. Justine grew warm at the way his gaze took her in. “People think we pull them over for speeding because we enjoy giving tickets.”
“Funny,” she said. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He ignored her input. “What we don’t enjoy is having to pry someone out of a totaled car because they were going too fast to avoid an accident.”
She stared at him for a long time, his change of tone filling her with uncertainty. “I understand,” Justine replied. What she didn’t understand was the reason his tone softened during the explanation. Was he thinking about the possibility of having to pry her out of a wrecked car?
“I’d rather you were late for work, Ms. Albright, but safe.”
“I understand,” she said again. “Thank you.” His features softened with his voice, and Justine suddenly found herself staring at him. The coat he wore did nothing to hide the muscles of his arms and shoulders. His hat didn’t hide his sharp features or his cropped dark hair. And for the first time that winter, Justine was glad the sun wasn’t shining. She knew if it had been, he would have hidden the deep gray of his eyes behind a pair of shades.
That need to call him in out of the rain was strong again. He could just climb into the front seat with her, and she could share the coffee she’d put into her portable thermal cup. Rain blew in through her open window and a drop touched her cheek, reminding her of its presence on the shoulder of her coat. Her first case must have turned her brain to mush for thinking something so stupid as to inviting him in for coffee. He had, after all, just given her a ticket.
“I promise to be very careful,” she said.
“Good,” he said. He leaned closer to the open window, and Justine thought she caught a scent of aftershave mixed the leather of his jacket. Underneath it all was the clean scent of man.
“Have dinner with me,” he said suddenly.
Justine stared at him for a long moment, unsure if she’d really heard what she thought she’d heard. Then she blinked at him. “What?”
A Twist of Betrayal Page 2
