Running for Her Life

by Beverly Long

  When the game ended, he watched to see who approached her. Several of the young men did, but with each she seemed casually comfortable. She didn’t do much more than exchange a quick greeting with any of them until one too-thin, long-faced guy approached. He wore faded jeans and a white wife-beater T-shirt that revealed tattoos spread across both biceps. He was smoking a cigarette.

  She looked surprised to see him. Then she motioned for the man to follow her, stopping when they were a distance from the volleyball court and anyone else who might hear the conversation. He talked, she mostly listened.

  Then the man dropped his cigarette and with more force than necessary, used the heel of his boot to grind it into the dirt. When Jake saw Tara frown, shake her head and turn away, only to be stopped by the man’s hand on her arm, he moved fast.

  “Problem?” he asked, when he reached Tara’s side.

  The man dropped his hand and stepped back.

  “No. No problem,” she said quickly.

  He didn’t buy it. “You two seemed to be having a pretty heated conversation,” he said, staring at the man.

  Tara stepped forward. “It was nothing,” she said. She pushed her hair back from her face. “This is Donny Miso,” she added. “Donny, Chief Vernelli.”

  The man didn’t say anything and he stared at the ground. Close up, Jake could see that his hair was dirty, he hadn’t shaved for a couple days and the dark circles under his eyes pointed to more than a few sleepless nights.

  He looked a little desperate. And normally Jake had some sympathy for people who had reached the end of their rope. But he had no sympathy for a man who used his strength to dominate a woman, to force her.

  “Donny, I think you better move on,” he said.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Donny said.

  “Then we want the same thing. Tara, I think Janet was looking for you. I’ll walk you back that direction.”

  Without another word, Donny walked away. When he was almost out of sight, Jake turned to Tara. “Does he want his job back?”

  “No. But the weird part is, he doesn’t have anything else. I don’t know what’s going on with him. I think he’s just so mad that his life isn’t what he thought it was going to be. He probably needs counseling, but he couldn’t afford to keep his health insurance after his real job ended. I’m worried about him.”

  “You think he could have had anything to do with the damage at the restaurant or with you being forced off the road yesterday?”

  “I don’t think he’s mad at me. Just at life.”

  Even so, Jake made a mental note to have another conversation with Donny before the day ended.

  “Excuse me,” Tara said. “I need to find Janet.”

  She walked back toward the crowd and he waited several minutes before following. He found the women easily enough and wasn’t surprised to see that Nicholi had managed to get his chair next to Janet’s.

  Tara had flopped down in the grass next to Nicholi’s lawn chair, her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. Sand still clung to her tanned legs and bare feet. Her toenails were painted a bright red, and while he’d never considered himself to have a foot fetish, there was something incredibly sexy about her ten toes.

  She leaned back on her arms, her head thrown back, her face raised to catch the sun. Jake pulled the collar of his shirt away from his throat and swallowed hard.

  She was a perfect match to bright sunshine and blue skies. To sweet, juicy watermelon and ice-cold lemonade.

  “How was the volleyball?” Nicholi asked.

  “Exhausting. But I think I worked off your cheesy potatoes, Janet. Thank goodness Alice wasn’t here with her cherry pie. Both would have done me in.”

  Nicholi put up a hand to shade his eyes from the bright sun. “I can’t remember a year that Alice and Henry missed the town picnic.”

  Tara nodded. “I know. They left early yesterday to go see their son. Bill’s getting married soon, you know.”

  Janet made some kind of grunting noise. “I wonder if Alice will finally be satisfied. She’s been pushing that boy to get married for years. Lord knows she worked hard enough to match up the two of you.”

  Now that was interesting. Jake moved a step closer.

  “Afternoon, Chief,” Nicholi said.

  Tara’s eyes flew open and she jerked upright so fast that Jake thought she might have popped a vertebrae. But she was prevented from saying anything by the sudden arrival of Andy.

  “Come on, Tara,” the young man said. “It’s time for the sack races. I need a partner.”

  She moaned. “Volleyball almost killed me.”

  “You’ve been saving potato sacks for months. You’re the closest thing we have to a corporate sponsor.”

  The idea of her putting that sexy bare leg up against some other man’s was unexpectedly revolting. Jake took another step forward. “I was hoping Tara would be my partner.”

  Chapter Five

  “I couldn’t,” she said immediately. “Really.” She stood up and took a step back. “I promised Andy.”

  Andy looked disappointed but held up his hands, clearly not wanting to piss off his new boss. “No problem, Chief. I’ll find another partner. But when we beat the pants off the two of you, I’m hoping I don’t get poisoned or fired.”

  Tara chewed on the corner of her upper lip. Then she took a breath and met his eyes. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Without another word, she walked over to the starting line and held out a hand for a sack. He moved behind her but didn’t speak. In the background, the Bluemond band played on. It appeared the kids were determined to provide a full afternoon’s worth of entertainment. This was the third time he’d heard the same song. They’d shed their uniform jackets, their only concession to the heat.

  She handed him the sack and he put one leg in. “If I die of a heart attack, promise me that you won’t tell anyone that I died with one leg in a potato sack.”

  She shrugged. “You could die covered with yolk. The egg-tossing contest is next.”

  He rolled his eyes and barely managed to keep them from rolling back in his head when she stuck her long bare leg into the sack. Even through the fabric of his pants, he swore he could feel the softness of her skin. Her hip brushed against his, bone against bone.

  “Ready?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “As ever,” he said. He’d gotten himself into this situation, now he just needed to see it through. He inched his leg away, making space between them.

  The whistle sounded, they hopped, almost fell, righted themselves, hopped again, and by the time they reached midway, had gotten into a rhythm. Ten feet from the finish line, he thought they had a chance of winning, but out of the corner of his eye he saw another couple catching up. He was so focused on them that he missed the pair on the other side who, instead of hopping, were lurching, like it was a damn long-jump competition. They overextended and would have crashed into Tara if Jake hadn’t turned his body and swung her out of the way.

  The momentum carried her into him, he fell, and before he knew it he was flat on his back. She was splayed on top of him, her face pressed flat into his neck, her breasts soft against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight. She was solid, yet delicate. Round in the right places. Smooth.

  She moved, jerking her head up so fast that a long strand of silky strawberry-blond hair brushed his cheek. He inhaled sharply, and when his lungs filled with a burst of raspberry, he realized he’d made the mistake that he’d managed to avoid on her front steps. The scent would haunt him. No doubt about it.

  She stared at him, the black pupils of her green eyes big and round. And he suddenly couldn’t hear a thing—not the band, not the crowd—all he could hear was the sound of her uneven breath. Her lips were parted and he knew that all he needed to do was lift his head and he’d be kissing her. He—

  “Tara, are you okay?” Andy was there, squatting down next to them. When he offered a helping ha
nd, Tara grabbed it quickly, and scrambled out of the potato sack. Andy offered a hand to Jake, but Jake waved it away. He got up more slowly, feeling oddly off balance.

  “You guys would have won,” Andy said.

  “It was a good effort,” Jake said. He looked at Tara, but she was busy dusting some invisible grass off her shorts. “I hope you didn’t add to your collection of bruises,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. No harm done.”

  Did she really believe that? Because his brain felt pretty scrambled.

  “Gonna do the egg toss?” Andy asked.

  Speaking of scrambled. “No. I think I’ll sit this one out.” He turned and set off through the crowd. One pass-through convinced him that the most dangerous thing happening was that Lori Mae’s seven-year-old twin boys, Riley and Keller, who he’d met just briefly yesterday when they’d come to the station to meet their mom for lunch, were perched high in a tree spitting watermelon seeds at unsuspecting souls.

  He pretended he didn’t see them but figured they had seen him when he heard a gasp and leaves rustling. He hoped one of them didn’t fall and break a leg. He didn’t want to have to explain that to their mother. Lori Mae had spent an hour with him yesterday, helping him orient to the job. She’d been especially helpful in filling in the details about the picnic. She was mid-thirties and had married her high school sweetheart twelve years ago. He was currently serving his second tour in the Middle East. She appeared to run the department without missing a beat. She worked eight to five, Monday through Friday. When she went home at night and on the weekends, the phones were switched over to the county dispatch center.

  He figured she was close by, and sure enough, she was standing next to Nicholi and Janet, who were still resting in their lawn chairs. Jake walked over and leaned up against the tree behind them. Everyone’s attention was on the egg tossing contest that was about to start.

  Tara and Andy were lined up across from one another, about ten feet apart. After each successful toss, each of the participants had to take a step backward. By the time it got down to the final three couples, Andy and Tara were a good thirty feet apart and fiercely concentrating.

  Next toss, Tara to Andy. Her throw might have been a little high, but Andy was a beanpole and he was able to reach it. He grinned like a little kid and Tara clapped her hands. One step back for each.

  Andy made a big production out of his windup. He was just about to let loose when a saxophone started playing. Jake couldn’t locate the source, but it was faint enough that he figured it was a band member walking home, not yet ready to give up the fight.

  The egg left Andy’s hand and Tara—well, Tara was searching the crowd, her eyes moving frantically. The egg hit Tara’s shoulder and splattered.

  Andy came running across the grass toward her. “Tara, you weren’t even looking,” he said.

  “I’m…I’m sorry, Andy.”

  Jake was close enough that he could see that all the color had drained from her face and that her hand, when she picked the shell off her shirt, was trembling.

  Jake glanced around the crowd, didn’t see anything out of place, nothing that would have caused that kind of reaction. He noted that the sax had stopped.

  “That’s why I don’t do the egg toss,” Lori Mae said. Both Nicholi and Janet smiled in response.

  Jake watched as the contest finished out. Andy and Tara congratulated the winners and then wandered over to join the group. Andy flashed a grin at Jake. “Hey, Chief. I’m going to take off now. My shift starts in just a few minutes. I’ll change at the station.”

  Jake nodded absently. Tara was still far too pale.

  “Honey,” Janet said, “your shirt is a mess.”

  Tara looked down, as if finally seeing it. “Mostly on my sleeve,” she said softly.

  Which caused Jake to take a second glance. Earlier he’d been so busy looking at her legs that he hadn’t focused on the fact that she had on a long-sleeved T-shirt. Granted, it was a very lightweight shirt but still, it was over ninety degrees. It reminded him that even when she’d been running, she’d had on a long-sleeved shirt. What the hell?

  Drugs? Were her arms covered with track marks?

  Maybe. But if so, she was the healthiest-looking user he’d ever seen. He wasn’t normally a betting man, but he’d bet the farm that she was clean. But why the modesty?

  Lori Mae stood up. “I better go find my two little hooligans and get them home.”

  “Second tree on your left,” Jake said.

  “Thanks, Chief. So what did you think of your first Wyattville picnic?”

  First and last. He’d be gone by the end of summer, and he wasn’t likely to be back this direction. But it hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. He’d thought it would be corny and tedious, and while there had been moments of both, there’d been something genuinely nice about watching a community gather for something as simple as shared food and conversation.

  In the city, there were festivals where crowds gathered, but it was because there was a shared interest in the event, not a shared interest in each other. That was what made this different.

  “It was a pleasure,” Jake said honestly.

  Nicholi stood up, got his balance and carefully folded his lawn chair. “By the way, I spoke with Chase Montgomery today. Unfortunately, his mother’s recovery may take longer than expected. He’s thankful you’re here. Said he’d trust you with his life and that we were lucky to have you.”

  Everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to say something, perhaps to explain why he’d come to Wyattville. Jake could feel the warmth in his face and he knew it had nothing to do with the sun. What could he say? I screwed up, my partner almost killed me, and I’m not sure I can be a cop anymore. Yeah. That would inspire confidence. “He’s a good man,” he said finally.

  Lori Mae studied him and he realized that he might have his hands full with her. But she didn’t push. Just said a general “Good night everyone,” and walked away.

  “I better get going, too,” Tara said. “Do you want me to help you carry your chairs?” she added, looking at Janet.

  “I’ve got them,” Nicholi said.

  Tara didn’t argue. Jake realized she wasn’t about to take away the man’s pride. “Okay. Good night.”

  She’d barely gone twenty yards when Nicholi said, “I just love that girl. She’s been a breath of fresh air in Wyattville.”

  “Hopefully her streak of bad luck is over,” Janet said. “First the broken window and then run off the road by a crazy driver. She’s due for some good luck.”

  Jake didn’t believe in luck. Good or bad. He didn’t believe in coincidence. He believed actions caused reactions. Push and push back kept the universe in balance.

  Somebody or something was pushing at Tara. And he was going to figure out what it was.

  * * *

  TARA HAD STOPPED SHAKING by the time she got home. Damn it. She’d heard that saxophone, recognized the song as one that Michael favored, and freaked. She was lucky the egg hadn’t caught her square in the face.

  It was a popular song, one that most everybody knew. It meant nothing that she’d heard it today, just days after other crazy stuff happened. Meant nothing that it was a saxophone, Michael’s favorite instrument.

  Right?

  There was such a thing as being hypersensitive. Neurotic. Crazy, even.

  She needed to keep her perspective—to not see monsters under the bed, or in the closet, or at the town picnic for goodness’ sake. She made a sharp right into her driveway and told herself that it wasn’t nutty to slow down and assess her surroundings, to take an extra few seconds to make sure that nothing was out of place. It was smart. Sensible.

  She parked, not bothering with the garage. Once she got cleaned up she needed to run to the grocery store. She winced getting out of the van, knowing that her muscles would probably hurt even more the next day. She slung her purse over her shoulder and was halfway to the house before she saw it.<
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  She took one more foolish step forward before turning and running for her van. She fumbled with her keys, wasting seconds before she got the vehicle started. Throwing it in Reverse, she backed out, turned the wheel sharply and peeled out of her driveway, all the time keeping her eyes on the rearview mirror.

  She was halfway to town before she remembered to breathe. She took a big gulp of air, hoping to calm her nerves and jump-start her brain.

  Her stomach tight with dread, she drove to the small brick building at the edge of town that housed police, volunteer fire and the city clerk’s office in different sections.

  She opened the door to the police department and walked into an empty room. At the rear of the room, the door to the small bathroom was open and the light was off. Where the heck was he?

  “Andy?” she yelled.

  Jake Vernelli strolled out of the back room, carrying a manila file folder. He wasn’t smiling.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

  He tilted his head down. “I thought we’d covered that. I work here.”

  She swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was expecting Andy.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And was he expecting you? Exactly what are the good citizens of Wyattville spending their tax dollars on?”

  She got the implied message. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “He left the picnic because his shift was starting.” She drew in a deep breath and fought for control. “Never mind. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  He got to the door before she did. “Andy apparently ate a few too many hot dogs today. I understand he became indisposed on his way here. He called me and I told him I’d cover.”

  She tried to step around him, but once again he moved fast and stayed between her and the door.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “You look as if you’re about to fall over.”

  Tara didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t trust him. But Chase Montgomery trusted him, and he was no fool. And one thing was certain—Jake had been at the picnic all day. His whereabouts were accounted for.

  Who else could she turn to? If it was Michael, then she’d need someone who could handle him. Someone faster, tougher.