He started motioning to Jay who inched the Rover in reverse toward the Jeep. She lifted her hand, brushed fingers across her lips.
When he stretched out under the Rover, his gray t-shirt slipped back, revealing lean abdominals. Her fingers would much rather touch those. Emerging from under the Rover, he disappeared under the front of the Jeep.
He had come after them, proof of the man she measured him to be—persistent and determined. Nothing would hold him back from getting where, or who, he wanted. She had to remind herself Ryan’s main interest was in protecting Amanda. The fact he’d joined forces with Uncle Jay drove the point home. Rebecca knew where she ranked, even more so than Ryan would admit.
Yet she recalled his face, the fear in his eyes when he’d searched hers. Still, she was here for Amanda as much as he was. A tiny voice pointed out this had been her getaway. She’d needed space from Ryan, a chance to talk to Amanda alone. Look where it’d gotten her. She surveyed the inside of the Jeep and then lifted her arm and gazed at the scratches.
Her arm blurred as she replayed how she’d somehow managed to get the Jeep stopped.
After the initial shock from the brake pedal not pushing back then the e-brake lever flopping up and down, fear and panic had followed, flooding her system. The emotions had almost capped her. She’d geared them down like she had the Jeep. Traffic had whooshed past her in the opposite lane.
Clutch-in, she’d grasped the shifter and forced it into a lower gear.
Clutch-out, the Jeep had jerked and bucked. It’d jolted her as she begged the speed to drop even more. Desperation had seeped through fear. She’d moved to shift into the next lower gear, realized she hadn’t been using the brake pedal, not flashing her brake lights.
She’d had to get off the highway. Her heart had thundered against her chest, eyes darted. Where? Intellect had shot back. She was in an SUV, an all-terrain vehicle, remember?
A car had approached behind her, gaining fast. She’d ground against the guard rail, wincing and gnashing her teeth then steering across the opposite lane. Her heart had climbed to higher elevation, pounding her all the way. Eyes had closed against the bone-jarring bumps. Tall stalks from bushes had whipped into the cab. It’d ended.
She’d opened her eyes. She was stopped.
Not one more second in the bullet box, she’d clutched the door handle, clambered past it. Half a thought had formed, before Ryan had finished it. Hearing her name in his deep, woody voice, she’d located his face, green-hazel eyes darting across hers in frenzy. Taut, thick arms had steadied her. Immediately, her body’s interest and adrenaline rush had switched to lust.
Okay, she had to cool off, return to reality and where things went from controlled to completely reeling.
Ryan wasn’t anxious anymore either. He gazed at the connection between the two cars. His jaw tightened, expression grew focused. A few words passed between him and Jay who’d left the Jeep and crossed through tall grass in his pleated slacks. His face darkened.
Then Ryan came around the Jeep to the driver’s door, considered her through the open window. His direct gaze dropped to her scratched arm. The forest green in his eyes raged as a scowl settled on his face.
She crossed her arm around her waist, dropped her other arm over it.
The Rover honked. Ryan flexed a few arm muscles as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat. Rebecca remembered how hard they’d felt braced beside her head. He buckled up, shifted into neutral, and honked back. The Rover crept forward, pulling the tow lines taut.
The Wrangler rocked when the Rover climbed the shoulder. Rebecca grasped the armrest, holding her body a safe distance from the jolting door and frame.
Ryan maintained his focus forward, clicked on the hazards. Why hadn’t she thought of the flashers?
“So, where did we leave off?”
I thought I did the leaving.
She hadn’t known what was happening with Amanda. She hadn’t known what was happening with her feelings for Ryan. She’d needed to sort it out, Amanda first.
Ryan had opened himself up to her ideas last night, listened when she advised him to stop brooding and let go. He’d left the dealership at her urging. And he was still willing to hear anything Rebecca had to say. Yet, she was shaking her head. She’d taken a journey for answers and time, and had come up short on both. As if to send the point home, they passed Bayfield’s city limits sign.
“Where did you two go?” Ryan guided. “Who’d you talk to?”
She paused to mentally organize her story then told him how they’d stopped for gas, talked to some guys at the repair shop sharing the same lot. Then they’d headed over to Ryan’s shop where Josh had ambled in like he owned the place. After he’d talked their ears off, Amanda convinced him to leave. “Then I climbed into the Jeep, got on the highway, and . . .”
“Here we are,” said Ryan.
Rebecca nodded. “Safe and sound.”
Ryan glanced at her arm. His jaw pulsed as he peered at the road. “Sure. How’d you convince Amanda to take you along?”
“I wouldn’t tell her what you told me until we were almost to Bayfield.”
“At the shop, did you ever lose sight of her?”
“No, we were together—wait. She went outside once to get her bag from the Jeep.” Her heart froze. “No. You can’t think. She wouldn’t do that to her own Jeep. I mean, I’m her cousin, Ryan.”
He pointedly stared at her high heels. “Then who did? Josh? When he’s not polishing his shoes or flirting with another man’s woman, he’s cutting brake wires to increase sales?”
Rebecca’s face warmed, anger and embarrassment overwhelming her. Was she Ryan’s? She clenched her eyes shut, shook her head. “Amanda wouldn’t do that.” Would she?
Her eyes strayed to her backpack where she kept Amanda’s documents. Someone thought they could frame her thinking along the same lines as Ryan, that people would think her liable to sabotage a customer or employee’s car.
Rebecca remembered the emptied first aid box. Someone had hurt her cousin. Amanda wouldn’t want another death on her hands. But her attacker might.
“We’ll find out,” Ryan said tersely, probably remembering—by every right he should—what Amanda had done to his truck so he couldn’t follow hot on their . . . high heels.
They left the highway for the town’s main street. Ryan concentrated on the tighter curves, using the transmission to regulate speed.
Rebecca stared out her window. The sidewalk along her side of the block seemed longer than when she’d passed by earlier. A truck had been parked there, bleach green with rust spots.
Then she spotted the shop, tried to spot Amanda. Instead, as her eyes followed the building while it moved into view of the driver’s window, she observed Ryan’s flexing jaw. His hand raked his thick, brown hair. He was struggling as much as any of them.
She figured it like trying to see the whole picture through Swiss cheese. They each had different holes, different facts.
Both vehicles came to a stop.
Rebecca reached down and slipped on her high heels. Her throbbing foot needed relief and wouldn’t receive any if she wore those leather-strap sandals any longer. Her cousin would just have to understand, Rebecca decided, as she climbed out of the Jeep. Other car doors sounded off. Then the crunch of gravel filled her ears as they all headed for the first bay door.
Passing from sunlight to the cool shade of the shop, the clicking of her heels was deafening in the empty building. She stepped into the front office. “Amanda?”
“Amanda?” Jay called out from in the shop.
Had Amanda seen them coming and fled? Rebecca shook her head.
She traced around the desk, saw Amanda’s phone by the computer. Seating herself in the black office chair, she stared at the sleeping compu
ter. Her hand flicked to wake the monitor. A website popped up. Eyes scanned the list of shops, addresses.
“Car-part dot com,” Ryan said. She’d heard him approach and stop behind the chair. “You can search junkyards nationwide.” He leaned in over her shoulder, rested a hand on the desk.
She forced her eyes to stay glued to the computer screen. The rest of her body hummed with aroused awareness at his proximity. So close. Passing through his shop, she’d felt the effect begin, immersed in his smell. But now, with the pine scent acute from his bare forearm, Ryan overwhelmed. Couldn’t she lean back and let go in his embrace, for a moment?
“Can you believe it?” Ryan asked it of himself.
“What?” She jolted back to the screen, searched the chart. There was a column about the quality of part and sometimes warranty information. She didn’t see—her eyes landed on the type of car searched. Gaudy Clip. Two miles?
“You think that’s . . .?”
“Danielle’s car?” he finished.
She nodded.
“It’s the right year. I haven’t heard about other Clips getting abandoned or breaking down in the area, not since Danielle.”
“So Amanda went there?” Jay asked. He stood farther back from Rebecca’s unaccompanied left shoulder.
Ryan shrugged. “She could’ve easily bummed a ride down the highway.”
“You two stay here,” commanded Jay. “I’ll check it out.”
By the time Rebecca came to her feet, he was already at the exit. Ryan didn’t move as Jay dropped the tow strap from his Rover and then climbed in and drove off.
Rebecca’s eyes drifted back to the screen.
Ryan spoke first. She saw the hand rested at his side near the computer roll into a fist. “She’s trying to find out if she’s a murderer. But she goes and sabotages her own Jeep. Why?”
“No, Ryan. It wasn’t her.” She met his gaze. “I’ll be back.”
Her legs worked heavily as she crossed the parking lot toward the Jeep. Was she making a mistake by telling him? She paused at her backpack but then tossed it over her shoulder fast enough to cut off argument.
When she turned around, he was there. She nearly crashed into him. Did he think she was walking out on him again? He grasped the strap of the bag. She let him take it.
No words spoken as they walked back to the shop. Her backpack was placed on a stainless-steel table.
“I don’t know if I should show you this. Maybe, it might be better to wait—”
Her eyes met the steady, focused green in his gaze. She lost her words.
Without another attempt, she pulled out the pictures, the ones he’d glanced at briefly the night before. He looked them over then returned to her eyes.
Her heart quickened and her breaths grew short. She handed him the threats.
He read, his jaw held tight.
“She,” Rebecca broke off before she finally forced it out, “Ryan, this man, whoever he is, is trying to frame her, get her to admit to something that, according to you, she may not have ever done. I don’t know if she can ever go back to her workplace again after this.” She desperately wanted him to understand her fear, keep attention off Amanda’s unreasonable hostility for high heels and the women who wore them. There was someone else being the threat, after Amanda. After them.
Her breath held as his face grew hard, unreadable. He let the papers fall to the bench then turned away, paced to the bay door.
He sent a hand through his hair.
After a minute, he strode back, eyes still unfocused, lost in thought. “Why would she . . .?” He gazed at Rebecca, a wounded expression. “She doesn’t want our help, doesn’t think I can keep her safe. I’ve never done anything but what I thought was best for her.”
With an even tone, Rebecca attempted to figure out her cousin’s thinking. “She doesn’t want to depend on someone who might walk out on her.”
“She doesn’t think too much of me.” Ryan said before he sighed and paced a few steps from her.
“What do we do now? If he, the attacker, followed her, how do we save her?”
He turned and met her anxious eyes.
Chapter 16
Each step down the line of broken cars dropped heavier than the last, ready to anchor her. Amanda steeled herself for what she would find in this junkyard.
The front half of the car peeked out. It held her stare. The passenger headlight seemed to focus on her like a dying animal’s eye. She flinched away.
When she turned her gaze back, the crack between the hood and bumper appeared like a smirk. She glared at it. Muscles she didn’t recall tensing relaxed.
There’s nothing wrong with this vehicle. I mean—she circled round the back—look! All—She sucked in a thin breath and her bones chilled under a cloud free sun. The whole left side of the car was mangled metal, crumpled most at its center, like a broken back.
She prepared for another step but wouldn’t move one foot forward. Arms held tight at her sides, she stared. Her heart thundered against her chest. Danielle, I’m so sorry.
Minutes passed. What would Tyler or the other techs think of her if they saw her like this? Was she going to stall? It was Danielle’s car, not her tomb. This car could fix things.
Body ramrod straight, she touched the roof, leaned over jerkily like her joints lacked grease. Canvas material blocked her view of the driver’s seat.
She fingered the deployed side airbag. Dust from its chemicals powder-coated what she could see inside. The pillar between doors bent out away from the body. She grasped the front door and found the dimples from the Jaws of Life the emergency responders must’ve used to get it open. It was destined never to shut in another driver again.
She dropped into the seat. By reflex, her hands went to the steering wheel. They twisted against the leather. Her glance brushed over the dashboard before it lifted and stopped on the hood. She leaned forward, grasped a handle under the dash, pulled. The hood latch popped. She jumped at the noise, having grown accustomed to the muteness of the forest around her.
Taking excess care propping open the hood, she finally got the support rod in place. Her eyes traveled over the buried transmission, joined to the engine. And eventually, she made it to the air conditioning and power steering pumps. Her heart flipped, hammered against her chest. The drive belt remained.
The word astonished sounded accurate to describe her mental state. Even if the pulley clutch was still unplugged, as she had left it, the belt could run and so would the car, just without air conditioning. She reached in and used two fingers to put pressure on the belt. Tension pushed back. It all appeared fine under there, not even a drop of oil. The car had hit the tree at its middle so the radiator and coolant hoses never cracked, spilling green fluid to mix with the blood—
She stepped away. The landscape made noise now. Breezes rustled twigs and leaves, but she dismissed them. Visual evidence imprinted on her mind. She continued to deny herself the hope reason directed her toward. She’d seen, felt. The belt was intact. A slipped belt was the only reason she could fathom for her actions causing Danielle’s crash. Nothing else made sense. Danielle had gotten so hot in her car she suffered heat stroke? Hardly. Even Amanda doubted, God rest her soul, the girl was dimwitted enough to lock herself in the car.
But Amanda needed more. She circled around the driver’s door and tossed herself back into the seat. The interior trim panel hung off the metal door by wires. She toyed with the handle.
The bezel around the door handle slipped aside. A blackened wire drew her attention. She leaned forward. Her brow crinkled. The wires appeared singed, but there were no airbags in the door for this kind of car. When the final clue snapped into its place, a gasp became her last sound. A thud and piercing pain drowned her consciousness into a black void.
~ ~
~
Germ dropped a heavy glare on Amanda’s slumped form. She would experience what he’d imagined for the last five years. It was time for this woman to know what Danielle had gone through in her final moments.
After all, he knew. He’d played out the scene in his head. Yes, the pump had been replaced in Danielle’s car, and every day since, Germ tortured himself with what he’d thought he’d done five years ago.
Danielle was woman in all forms but age, and only a couple years had separated her from that legal distinction. She’d had a deal for Germ. Her daddy gave her cash to fix her car. She’d buy the part, and if Germ installed it after hours without charging labor, she’d keep him company. Then she’d use her leftover cash for new clothes she’d let him see first.
When he’d done the repair, she’d indulged him with a kiss, a long, wet thank-you before driving off. Light-headed, a rush in his body, his uniform pants were uncomfortably tight. He’d needed to cool down. He’d started putting his tools away and glanced at his cart. His hand had stilled. He’d forgotten a part. Handling the O-ring, he’d realized the implications. If the power steering leaked enough fluid, it’d churn on air, possibly seize.
In the following days, he’d attempted to get under Danielle’s hood, and she’d brushed him off, treated him like awkward Germ all over again. He had pushed the subject until her jock boyfriend expressed his intent for Germ to stay away, using some punches—and one kick while on the ground—to send the point home. Two days passed. If it’d leaked, her steering would’ve made noise. Then Danielle would’ve made noise. She would’ve spotted a puddle on her driveway. The original O-ring from the old part must’ve still been in there, sealing it tight.
A Running Heart Page 17
