When she didn’t answer, he shook her. “Does he have a weapon?” His voice resonated sharp and angry.
“I didn’t see one.”
“My truck’s about five hundred feet down the trail. Get in and lock it. Call Flint and tell him to get out here as soon as he can.”
When she didn’t move, he shouted, “Go!”
Whitney hated to leave him but she did what she was told. What else could she do? If Mason showed up, she’d just cause Steve to worry about her before himself and that was the last thing he needed.
• • •
Whitney took off down the trail and Steve headed straight for the lake, his weapon poised to fire. Mason wasn’t stupid. He’d be lying in wait — probably hiding somewhere ready to attack as soon as Steve hit the clearing. He hoped Whitney was right that he didn’t have a handgun, otherwise he’d be a sitting duck. Frankly, taking one bullet a year was enough for him.
Steve broke through the trees adjacent to the lake and looked around. Nothing.
Christ.
Where had the man gone? Was he watching him right now or was he on his way out of the area?
No way could he allow that to happen. This man was a cold-blooded killer and he had to be put away for the safety of single mothers everywhere.
A slight movement off to his left had him turning too late. A hand snaked out and wrenched the gun from his grip.
Steve wrestled away and dove toward the Glock, rolling in the dirt, fighting to get free of the man.
Mason grabbed his leg and yanked him back, Steve’s hand narrowly missing the weapon. The two struggled, Steve’s thrusting a boot heel into Mason’s gut, hoping it would stun him long enough to break loose from his tight hold.
Instead, he sprang toward Steve, one of his fists landing on his left cheek, the impact blinding him.
They both tumbled over one another.
When Steve saw clearly again, he swung back, his fisted knuckles connecting with the man’s nose. Blood gushed in a fine spray from Mason’s nostrils. He howled and covered his broken nose with both hands.
It was the opening Steve needed. He stretched his arm out as far as he could and his fingers wrapped around cold steel.
Relief washed over him. He had the gun.
A hard kick to Steve’s injured back almost paralyzed him, but he fought past the pain and held tight to the weapon and rolled again, aiming straight at his assailant. “Freeze, Mason.”
“In your dreams, asshole,” the blood-soaked man said, and then lunged toward him again.
Steve squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting him square in the chest.
Mason looked down at the red oozing from the hole in his shirt, surprise and pain written on his contorted face. Seconds later he crumpled, his body landing on top of Steve’s legs.
Steve kicked him away, his heart thudding like a runaway locomotive. Mason had given him no choice. It was either him or Steve. Steve chose to live.
Sirens bellowed in the distance and Steve took in a shattering breath. The nightmare was over. Whitney was safe and that’s all that mattered. Except now, he had no reason to stay in town. That thought alone left him with an emptiness he’d never experienced before.
He’d return to work and forget about her. With this case solved, the chief would see he was strong enough to deal with the homicide unit again. As long as he stayed busy, he’d be okay.
Steve rose from the ground and tucked his Glock into the waistband of his pants, just as Flint, Bryan and Sheriff Gable came running out of the tree line.
Flint looked at the body on the ground, then at him. “You okay?”
“I am now. Is Whitney all right?”
“Bill took her to Kylie.”
“Good. I don’t think I should see her again. I’ll write her a note to say goodbye. I need to get my stuff and get the hell out of here.”
Flint frowned. “Are you sure about that?”
Steve hesitated, and then nodded. “I think it’d make it easier for us both. She’s safe now and that’s all that matters.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you listening to me, Steve?” His partner Dane Reynolds stood across from his desk, looking to him for an answer.
Steve stared back and blinked. “What?”
“I asked if you’d gotten a chance to look at that forensic report on the Jenkins murder. We’re running out of time on finding his killer.”
Steve shook his head, rifling through the papers on his desk to locate the one Dane referred to. Where was the damn thing? He’d seen it earlier that morning. It had to be on his desk unless someone took it.
“I can’t find the report. You sure you don’t have it?”
Dane’s arched a brow and looked at Steve like he’d lost his mind. “No, you have it.”
Frustrated, Steve leafed through all the papers again, this time finding it stuck to another sheet. Why was it so hard to keep things organized anymore?
Because your head isn’t here, that’s why.
Steve handed his partner the report and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
Dane eyed him intently. “You seem distracted. You have to be on your A-game working homicide. You of all people should know that considering you were telling me the same think last year when that mess with Simone started.”
Steve shoved away from his desk and rose. “I’m doing the best I can. Get off my back.”
Dane raised his hands in protest. “Whoa, there, buddy. What’s going on? I thought you were happy being back to work. Your attitude suggests that this is the last place you want to be right now.”
Getting back to work had been Steve’s ultimate goal, at least until he’d met Whitney. Now he couldn’t keep her from drifting into his every thought, distracting him from the cases he’d been assigned. Neil Jenkins deserved his full attention, yet right now, Steve couldn’t seem to give it to him. Thinking of Whitney and Kylie kept getting in the way.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off. Go home and get some rest. You look like you could use some.”
His partner was right about that. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep here and there since he returned to Denver. Every time he closed his eyes, Whitney’s face came back to haunt him. He was sure she hated him for leaving with just a short note of goodbye, but he thought it’d be easier than saying it face-to-face. Now he wished he had said those words in person. Wished he’d have told her that they’d be better off with him just leaving, that it would be easier for them both and less painful for Kylie.
Such a cop-out. Steve had been afraid he couldn’t leave if he had to see them both. Raw emotion clogged his throat and tightened his chest.
“I think I will go home. If you need me, call.”
Steve headed for the exit. Nothing had turned out the way he’d planned, thinking work would make him forget about Whitney when she was all he thought about.
On his way to his apartment, he’d pick up something to eat, another thing that he hadn’t been doing much of. He just didn’t have an appetite anymore.
He jumped into his SUV and drove out of the police parking lot. Halfway home, he pulled into a fast food place and went in to grab a burger to take home.
At his complex, he entered the building and walked to the row of boxes against the far wall. He grabbed the stack of mail inside his and took the steps to the second floor.
Inside his apartment, he tossed the stuff onto the table in the living room, then plopped down on his sofa and turned on the TV. While he watched the news, he opened the takeout bag. One bite into his burger and he threw it down onto the wrapper and leaned back on the sofa.
Why did everything seem so different since he returned to Denver. He used to love the craziness of the city, now it annoyed him. The people all in a damned hurry — totally the opposit
e of the residents of Marble. Traffic irritated him, the noise, the honking horns. Everything he’d loved about the fast-paced life before.
Steve sucked in a labored breath and picked up his mail. A large envelope caught his eye. It was from Patsy Fry.
He tore through the paper and pulled out a handful of pictures of him and Whitney at their pseudo wedding.
His throat clogged as he looked though the photos taken that day. He choked up further when he saw himself dancing with Kylie standing on his shoes. The little girl looked so happy, her face angled up at him, eyes so much like her mother’s, filled with adoration.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell had he done? He was miserable without Whitney. Without Kylie. He needed them more than he needed to breathe — more than he was sure they needed him.
He had to get them back. Had to explain his lapse into total stupidity for leaving them.
A smiled curled on his lips. Whitney would fight him. The woman had more pride than anyone he’d ever met. But he’d do whatever it took to make her see they belonged together. Then their fake marriage would become real.
He rose to go to his bedroom to pack a bag. He felt the heavy weight lift from his chest as he thought of his plans for him and Whitney. He just hoped she wouldn’t want to shoot him with his own gun after the way he’d run out on her.
• • •
“Come on, Whitney. Sitting around moping isn’t going to help. The only way to get over a man is to meet another one.” Bethany stopped pacing in front of the sofa to glare at her.
“That may work for you, Beth, but I’m not like that. I don’t want another man. I just want to get over Steve.”
“Do you think he’s crying over you right now? Come on. Let’s go over to the legion in Carbondale and dance the night away.”
Whitney shifted on the couch cushion. “I don’t feel like dancing. Besides, who’ll watch the kids?”
“You let me worry about that.” Bethany grinned at her. “You just go in and put on your best party dress and be ready when I get back.”
“I don’t think — ”
“Don’t do that. Thinking has never gotten you anywhere. Just run in the bedroom and change.”
The last thing Whitney wanted to do was to try to put on a happy face. She wasn’t happy. She was miserable and it was hard not to show that to everyone around her. Then again, she didn’t like the pitying looks she’d gotten from everyone in town. Poor Whitney McAllister. Left again. Nothing was worse than that. Besides the pain she felt at losing Steve.
Maybe going out and having some fun was just what she needed, or would at least get Bethany off her back for a while, and hopefully everyone else in town. Whitney knew they were only trying to help, but right now she felt like wallowing in her misery and she wanted to be left alone while she did.
“Okay, I’ll go. But I’m calling Patsy to watch Kylie.”
Bethany’s mouth thinned into a straight line. “Fine. I’ll be back in forty minutes to pick you up. Be ready.”
Whitney waited until Bethany pulled out of her driveway before calling Patsy. With the arrangements made, she walked to her bedroom to change.
How could she put her heart into having a good time when her heart was broken?
She rifled through her closet, her gaze landing on the dress she’d worn on her sham of a wedding day. Her hand trembled as she ran her fingers over the satiny material. Tears clouded her eyes and she blinked them away. Would she ever get past the pain of his leaving — with a short note of farewell? That hurt more than anything. He could have at least said goodbye to Kylie, who had asked for Steve almost every day since he’d left. Her daughter had fallen as hard for him as Whitney had. Now they both felt betrayed.
And here she thought he was nothing like Wyatt. He was just like him. Both men had run away in the middle of the night, not looking back once.
Whitney slid the dress away and found a clingy red gown she hadn’t worn in years. Would she be brave enough to don the thing now? She stripped down to her underwear and slipped into the dress. It seemed shorter than she remembered. Whitney glanced in the mirror and stared at her image. She looked hot. But was that what she wanted?
She swallowed hard. “What are you doing, Whitney?”
“We going to Patsy’s?” Kylie asked from the doorway.
“In a few minutes, sweetie. Let mommy finish getting dressed.”
Her daughter shot out of her room and left Whitney feeling guilty. Mason’s words still played over in her head. You’re a bad mother. Whitney should stay home with Kylie instead of going out. It wasn’t like she’d have a good time anyway.
Whitney spritzed a small amount of perfume on and went in search of her daughter. The little girl stood next to the door with her Winnie-the-Pooh bag in her hand. Her sad expression sent Whitney’s stomach into her chest.
Bethany chose that moment to pull into the driveway and Whitney tucked Kylie’s hand in hers. After her daughter was buckled into her car seat, Whitney got in the car.
Her friend glanced her way and frowned. “I know you didn’t want to go tonight but could you at least stop looking as if you were headed for execution.”
“I said I’d go. I never said I’d look happy doing it.”
Bethany sighed. “All right.”
After they dropped Kylie off at Patsy’s, they got on the highway and headed toward Carbondale.
“Do you think that friend of Flint’s will ever come back to Marble. He was a very handsome guy. And he worked for the FBI. He’d be quite the catch.”
“Are you talking about Bryan?” Leave it to Beth to notice any available man in town.
“Was that his name? He was hot, especially in that expensive suit he had on.”
Whitney shook her head. “Bryan is a profiler. I’m sure his time is always in demand.”
“That’s too bad. I could have really gone for him.”
Like he was any different from any other man. Bethany went for anything with a penis.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking area of the American Legion. The place was packed, not at all surprising for a Saturday night.
Whitney opened her door and got out.
“Let’s have a drink together and then mingle,” Bethany said as they entered the building.
Great. She planned to leave Whitney as soon as she could. She was going to be left to her own devices to fend off any advances from men. How would she make it through the night without ending up in the restroom in tears? She wasn’t ready for this. It was much too soon for her heart.
They made their way to the bar and sat on two of the stools. Whitney wanted to leave right then and there, but she had no way to do that. Not when Bethany drove.
A blond man on the other side of the bar asked for their drink order.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Bethany said, smiling seductively at the guy.
“Make it two.” Whitney knew she’d be sipping on the drink all night. She wasn’t used to alcohol. No way was she having more than one. So, it could be amusing to watch her friend try and pick up every man in the club.
Then again, maybe it wouldn’t.
Their drinks arrived and Bethany paid for the first round. Whitney took a sip of her drink and grimaced. Even the smooth liquor made her queasy.
“Tell me why we’re here again.”
Bethany scowled at her. “To have some fun. Come on, Whit. You’re being a bore.”
Whitney tore at the paper napkin under her drink. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
Bethany took her by the shoulders. “It’s been over a month since Steve left town, Whitney. Do you really think he’s sitting around his apartment sulking? You need to forget he ever existed and move on. Men are like light bulbs, they brighten up your world for
a short time, and then they burn out and you replace them.”
Whitney stared at Bethany, wondering why they were even friends. Why was it so easy for Bethany to shrug off Whitney’s feelings and impossible for her to do?
Because she loved Steve with all her heart and his leaving left her and Kylie broken.
The music on the sound system changed from slow to up tempo. “Let’s dance?”
“No way. No one else is.”
Bethany jumped off her seat. “That’s good. That way all the men in the room will notice us.”
“I’m not going out there, Beth. If you want to dance, you’re doing it alone. I plan to sit here and nurse my drink all night until you decide you’re ready to go home.”
Bethany scowled at Whitney again. “Why did I even bring you along tonight? Have fun wallowing in self-pity. I’m going to dance the night away.”
Her friend headed for the center of the room and started to sway to the rhythm of the tune. She had to be the bravest or the craziest person Whitney knew. No way could she get up in front of a room filled with people and do what Bethany was doing. Not ever.
Maybe that’s what was wrong with her. Maybe that’s why all the men she fell in love with left. She was too boring for them.
Tears clouded her eyes. Boring or not, she wasn’t changing who she was for any man. If they didn’t like her this way, then they weren’t right for her.
• • •
Steve pulled his SUV into Whitney’s driveway and noticed that all the lights were out in the house. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was only eight. No way would Whitney be in bed yet. So where was she? Where was Kylie?
He missed her so much he physically hurt inside.
Maybe she was over at Bill and Patsy’s. He turned the SUV around and took off toward town again. If it took him all night, he’d find Whitney and tell her how much he loved her and that he’d be willing to live anywhere as long it was with her.
Back in Marble, he drove straight to the Frys’. He knocked on their door and waited. Patsy answered, her mouth lifting into a Cheshire cat smile. “What brings you back to Marble, detective? Did you happen to get the pictures I sent?”
Watching Whitney Page 15
