She Can Kill

by Melinda Leigh

  She finished chopping and consulted the clipboard. “Do you need me to do anything else before I go?”

  “No.” He stirred a pot of vegetables and stock. Steam wafted from the simmering mixture, and the kitchen filled with the scent of the inn’s signature chicken chili. On the stainless counter behind him, one assistant diced tomatoes while another sliced strawberries for the goat cheese and balsamic salad on tonight’s list of specials. Jacob switched gears, moving to the shelves of spices and mixing the rosemary rub for the pork tenderloin medallions.

  Sarah stripped off her apron and gathered her purse and coat. She’d sent Mrs. Holloway a text earlier. Along with jeopardizing her job, Troy had the power to impact Sarah’s coworkers and childcare providers.

  Was that his goal? To simply make her life difficult? Was this payback, or was Mike right to suspect pure manipulation as Troy’s motivation?

  Her mind reeled with questions as she crossed the parking lot at the rear of the inn. She started her minivan. Blowing on her hands, she gave the engine a minute to warm up. She adjusted the heat vents and backed out of her parking space. The lot emptied into a narrow street that ran alongside the inn. Sarah shifted out of park and drove to the exit.

  A horn blared and a fast-moving pickup truck nearly clipped the front end of the minivan. Sarah stomped on the brakes. The van lurched to a stop as the truck sped away.

  Her stomach pitched as she recognized the Mitchell’s Sporting Goods sticker on the pickup’s rear window.

  Troy.

  Cristan crouched on the rocky ledge, peering from behind a tree trunk. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it free, along with his hat and gloves. Sarah.

  Alarm rushed through him. Was Emma all right?

  Keeping his eye on the lot below, he answered her call. Distance and the rush of water would cover the sound of his voice. Still, he kept his voice low. “Hello, Sarah.”

  The connection was weak and her voice broken with static, but he could make out her words.

  “I’m sorry I have to tell you this,” she began. “I’m being followed by a private investigator.”

  Shock jolted him. “Could you repeat that, Sarah?”

  “Troy hired a private investigator to follow me.”

  Bastard.

  “I don’t know what he’s trying to prove.” Sarah’s voice broke. “But I wanted to let you know. Considering what Troy said at the hospital last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were caught up in this. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” All of the blame belonged on the poor excuse of a man she’d married, but Cristan was tempted to take his frustrations out on the PI in the sedan.

  “I’m sorry anyway.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” Cristan said.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll get someone else to babysit the girls for a while. Please tell Lucia she didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t need to be involved in my problems.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Do not worry about this, Sarah.”

  The man exited the sedan and walked a careful circle around the Mercedes.

  “But thank you for the warning. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and contemplated the man inspecting his car. Cristan didn’t have to kill him. He didn’t have to gather his daughter and leave town in the night. Aline Barba had not found him. Instead, he’d become embroiled in Sarah’s divorce. How had he gotten involved in a domestic dispute? The answer was clear. He’d allowed himself to make personal connections in Westbury. Loneliness had taken its toll on him. He’d been weak. But Troy Mitchell did not have the right to dictate Sarah’s actions, and Cristan would be damned if he let that bastard control him.

  The man started up the trail. Dark haired and olive skinned, the man was in his midfifties and appeared reasonably fit. He wore a hat and gloves, but jeans grew heavy and cold when wet, and his street-type boots were not designed to navigate slippery rocks. He was dressed for urban surveillance, not a wilderness trek.

  Cristan sprinted up the steep trail. His chilly muscles appreciated the movement. He would not kill the man, but he would teach him a lesson. He’d left clear footprints in the scattered patches of snow, and the man was following them. Cristan intentionally cracked a small twig. The noise reverberated through the trees. The man looked up, scanning the trail. He started up the slope. Cristan left a false trail heading up another, even steeper incline. Then he backtracked in his own footprints to a rocky patch and veered onto another path. He peered around a tree trunk. The man had progressed less than a hundred feet. He slid on a rock, his ascent hampered by his footwear.

  Moving quietly, Cristan looped below his tail and doubled back to the parking lot. He used the hilt of the knife to smash the passenger window and access the glove compartment. The car was registered to A-Plus Private Investigations. Cristan took a picture of the vehicle registration with his cell phone. He’d run a check on the firm later. For now, stranding the investigator would have to suffice as payback. He slit all four tires on the sedan. Then he got into his own vehicle and drove away.

  The PI had a phone. Cristan’s stunt wouldn’t kill him, but it would cost him.

  Cristan sped down the highway. He still had some time before he needed to pick up Lucia from the talent-show practice. He headed into Westbury and cruised past Mitchell’s Sporting Goods. He turned the car around and stopped at the curb in front of the store. Troy drove a pickup truck, but the vehicle wasn’t parked in the lot alongside the store. Where was he?

  As Cristan idled at the curb, anger simmered beneath his skin. He and Sarah had never gone anywhere together, except for that one trip to the hospital. Her ex-husband was trying to prove something that wasn’t true. But then Cristan knew better than anyone that the truth didn’t set anyone free.

  What should he do? He wanted to goad Troy into attacking him. He didn’t imagine it would be difficult. Sarah’s ex had a quick temper and didn’t seem prone to exercising self-control or thinking through decisions. If Troy was the aggressor, Cristan could legally defend himself—and teach Troy a valuable lesson.

  Except that Cristan had given Sarah his word that he wouldn’t provoke him, and breaking his promise to her felt wrong.

  Movement in his rearview mirror distracted him. An SUV parked behind his sedan. Mike. The big cop got out of his car and walked up to the side of the Mercedes. Cristan lowered the window.

  Mike pointed. “What are you doing?”

  Cristan lifted a palm. “I wasn’t aware that it was illegal to park on the side of the road.”

  Mike stared, clearly angry. “Diner. Now.” It wasn’t a request. “Sit with Sean. I’ll be along in a minute.”

  The police chief walked away while Cristan debated ignoring his order. But curiosity, and his respect for Mike, won.

  The Westbury diner was just a few blocks down the street. Cristan parked in the lot. The dinner hour hadn’t begun, and only two tables in the dining room were occupied. One of the patrons was Sean, sitting in the corner booth with his back to the wall. Cristan slid into the other seat.

  “Mike is pissed.” Sean waved for a waitress.

  She hurried over and poised her pen over her notepad. “What can I get you?”

  Sean ignored the menu. “Coffee and a slice of cherry pie.”

  “Just coffee.” Cristan had only been in the diner a handful of times. The restaurant was a local hangout, and the atmosphere felt intimate.

  “Bring him a piece of pie, and the chief is coming.” Sean leaned back, draping one arm over the top of the booth.

  “I’ll bring him the green tea he likes.” The waitress hustled away.

  “No pie for Mike?”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “Mike doesn’t eat food that has taste.”

  “My time is limited today,” Cristan said as the waitress flipped and filled their cups. She brought them t
wo slices of pie and utensils wrapped in napkins.

  “Big plans?” Sean asked.

  “I have to pick up my daughter at school.”

  “I have two girls. Five and seven.” Sean dug into his pie.

  Cristan ignored the slice of pie in front of him. “What is this?” He gestured between them.

  Sean washed his pie down with a swallow of coffee. “Mike wants me to be your friend.”

  Of all the answers, that was the least expected. “What?”

  “He wants to know more about you, and he figures the best way to do that is by being friendly.” Sean dug his fork into his slice again. “Just so you know, I voted for asking a hacker friend to do an illegal background search. But Mike has all these moral dilemmas.”

  “Ethics can be a hindrance,” Cristan said dryly.

  “No shit,” Sean laughed. “It’s a good thing you and I aren’t overly burdened.”

  A rush of cold air signaled Mike’s arrival. He slid into the booth next to Sean and stared at Cristan over the table. “You can’t park in front of Mitchell’s. If Troy sees you, he’ll flip.”

  Cristan drank his coffee. “His truck wasn’t in the lot. Do you know where he is?”

  “No, but I’m serious,” Mike said. “I’m trying my best to defuse him, but that won’t be possible if you’re poking him with a lit match at the same time.”

  Cristan winced. Mike’s description was uncomfortably accurate. If Troy had seen him, a confrontation would have been inevitable.

  “You really think he can be defused?” Sean asked. “Cause I think he’s gone bat-shit crazy.”

  “You’re not helping,” Mike glared at Sean, then turned to Cristan. “What were you going to do if Troy came outside?”

  Cristan set his cup in its saucer. “I don’t know, but I can’t stand by and let him harass Sarah.”

  “Amen,” Sean said. “I’ve been telling Mike for years that we should take out Troy.”

  Mike rubbed his forehead. “Please do not provoke Troy. Sarah is the one who will pay.”

  “You’re right,” Cristan said. “I won’t provoke him.”

  Mike scrutinized him, as if not sure how to assess his statement. “You give me your word that you’ll stay away from Troy.”

  “I said I wouldn’t provoke him. But if he tries to hurt Sarah, I can’t promise anything.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll hold you to that promise.” Mike tossed a few dollars on the table. “I have to go back to work.”

  Sean waited until Mike had left the diner. Then he ate the last bite of his pie. “If Troy hurts Sarah again, I’ll help you dispose of the body.” Though his grin and tone suggested humor, his eyes were serious.

  “I suppose it’s good to have friends.”

  “Damned straight.”

  But having an ally didn’t mitigate Cristan’s worries. Troy was unaccounted for. Who knew what he was planning?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Is it my imagination or is that dog barking nonstop tonight?” Sarah placed a card on the Candy Land board and moved her piece to the next purple square. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, she picked up her mug of lukewarm tea and sipped. Em crawled into her lap, and Sarah kissed the top of her head.

  “Almost bedtime,” she announced, more than ready to climb into her own bed.

  Kneeling on the other side of the coffee table, Alex swiveled her head to the cable box. Her lips moved as she read the numbers. “It’s not time yet.” Now that she’d learned to read the digital clock, there was no more scooting her off to bed as much as a minute early.

  Ruff ruff ruff. Bandit raced across the living room and leaped onto the back of the sofa, where he had a view of the street in front of the house.

  She craned her head to look out the window. One of her neighbors and his elderly golden retriever shuffled down the sidewalk.

  “Shh,” Sarah said to the dog. “Goldie lives down the block. You’ve met her a hundred times.”

  His barks changed to whines.

  “My turn.” Alex flipped a card and counted the spaces on the colorful game board.

  Sitting on Sarah’s lap, Em took her turn in what felt like the longest board game in the history of the universe. Normally, Sarah loved playing a game in the evening with her girls, but she couldn’t wait to close her eyes tonight. Her lids felt as heavy as garage doors.

  From his perch on the back of the sofa, Bandit growled, stiff-legged.

  “I win!” Alex shouted, sliding her piece onto the Candy Castle space and raising both arms over her head in triumph.

  The digital clock rolled to eight o’clock. Thank God.

  “Bedtime,” she said.

  Alex gave the clock her full and intense scrutiny. “I have to put the game away.” She began to collect the cards, carefully placing each one on top of the last and lining up the edges with an engineer’s precision.

  “I’ll get it,” Sarah said. Her eldest daughter was the queen of stalling. “You go pick out a book and brush your teeth.”

  “OK,” Alex sighed. She got up and headed for their bedroom. “Come on, Em.”

  Emma picked up her bedraggled blanket from the floor, hugged it close, and followed her sister in a sleepy gait. As soon as the girls disappeared down the hall, Sarah cleaned up the game. She collected the empty cookie plate and cups, brought them to the kitchen, and loaded them in the dishwasher.

  “Mom,” Alex shouted. “Em frew up again.”

  Sarah ran for the bathroom. Alex waited outside the door.

  Emma sat on the footstool. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I missed.”

  She certainly had. Sarah scanned Em’s pink kitten pajamas. By some miracle, they appeared clean. Sarah handed Alex the fruit-flavored toothpaste. “It’s OK, sweetie. Take your toothbrushes into my bathroom while I clean this up.”

  The doctor had said Em’s nausea could continue for a few days. Sarah mopped the floor with paper towels and disinfectant. Shoving the soiled mess into a plastic bag, she collected the kitchen trash and went through the laundry room into the garage. Avoiding the stacks of still-full moving boxes, she went out the side door. She kept the garbage can on the side of the house, hidden from street view by a piece of while trellis.

  “Hello, Sarah.”

  Sarah jumped, her hand pressed to her chest. “Troy.”

  He slouched against a tree. Inside the house, Bandit barked. Sarah glanced back. Mature trees and shrubs lined the side and rear of the lot, providing privacy from the neighbors.

  “What are you doing here?” Shivering, she clutched the edges of her sweater together. Her free hand slipped into the front pocket and closed over the fob for the alarm system.

  He pushed off the tree and took two steps closer. “I wanted to see if Em was all right.”

  “You’re supposed to call,” she said.

  “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  On that he was right. Her thumb found the oversized panic button on the alarm fob. How long would it take for the police to get here if she pushed it? Mike was at home. The only person in the station would be the dispatcher. Who knew where tonight’s single patrol car was right now?

  Troy walked closer. Sarah backtracked toward the door, trash bag dangling from her hand like a white shield. Could she get into the house before he caught her? What did he want?

  “I need to put the girls to bed.” Sarah moved sideways. “If you want to talk to Em, you can call her any night before eight.”

  “I don’t want to ask permission to talk to my own kid. I don’t want to talk to her on the phone either. I want to see them both every day. I want to see you every day. Why did you do this to us, Sarah?”

  “You know why.”

  “You didn’t need to break our family apart.” His voice had that hollow, accusing tone that preced
ed anger.

  “It wasn’t my fault, Troy.”

  “Like hell it wasn’t.” He moved closer. Inside the house, the dog’s barking rose to a shrill, furious pitch. “You made me sign those papers.”

  Sarah eased backward.

  “I love you. I want you back,” he said. “I did everything you wanted. I gave up drinking. I go to AA. I even took that anger management class. What more do you want from me?”

  Cold wind blew through the knit of Sarah’s sweater, chilling her. Clammy sweat broke out on her icy palms. “I’m going in now.”

  “That’s not what I want to hear.” He let out a Why do you make me do this? sigh. “If you don’t come home, I’m going to take the kids away from you.” Troy’s voice sharpened. “The PI was just the beginning. You have a choice. Come back home where you belong and be the fucking good little wife I married, or you’ll never see those kids again. Custody can be contested over and over. I’ll never let it go.”

  Sarah’s heart slammed against her breastbone. She shuffled backward another step. Her back bumped the door, and her hand closed over the doorknob. She dropped the garbage bag, slipped into the house, and shut and locked the door. The alarm reset with a click of the fob. She might have talked Mike out of renovating the house, but when he’d insisted on installing a security system, she hadn’t argued.

  Panting, she went into the house and searched for her cell phone. Spying it on the coffee table, she grabbed it. Her shaking fingers wouldn’t cooperate with the touchpad numbers.

  Damn it!

  She stopped, lowered the phone, and took three deep breaths. She was inside. The doors were locked. The dog had stopped barking. Troy was probably gone. He’d made his point and scared the hell out of her. There was no need for him to stick around any longer.

  “Mommy?” Em called.

  “I’ll be right there.” She called Mike, who said he’d be right over, then she went into the girls’ room, an explosion of pink and white ruffles and stuffed animals. Sarah sat on a chair between the twin beds and read If You Give a Moose a Muffin. Em’s eyes drooped, and she drifted off before Sarah finished, but Alex’s eyes were wide open when Sarah turned off the light and left the room.