On the Lam

by SUE FINEMAN

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  On the Hunt ~ Excerpt

  The Gregory Family Series ~ Blurbs

  About the Author

  ON THE LAM

  by

  Sue Fineman

  On the Lam

  Copyright © 2011 Sue Fineman

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Sue Fineman.

  Published by Amazon KDP

  Seattle, WA

  Electronic KDP Edition: April, 2011

  This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.

  Chapter One

  Callie Caldwell collected her last tip, grabbed her purse, and rushed out the door. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss her bus, and she was too tired to walk all the way home.

  A hand came out of the darkness and clamped over her mouth, and in that instant, she knew Tommy Ray had found her.

  “Come with me quietly or I’ll kill you right here.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage and fear stole her breath away. She tasted blood where he’d smashed her lip against her teeth, and she knew it was only the beginning.

  He released her mouth and pulled her toward the back of the restaurant, talking quietly so no one else could hear. “I have a warrant for your arrest, Callie. You’re coming with me.”

  Oh God, no! If she went anywhere with him, she’d be dead by morning. She glanced around, looking for someone who might help her, but the parking lot was nearly empty at this hour of the night. The last customer she’d waited on was driving away now.

  Tommy Ray’s fingers dug into her arm so tightly she thought the bone would snap, but she didn’t cry out or try to pull away. She knew better than to try to fight him. “What’s the warrant for, Tommy Ray?”

  “You stole Billy Smith’s car. I dusted it for prints and found yours.”

  As Tommy Ray pulled her toward his pickup, the customer’s car backed up, and Tommy Ray yanked her behind the restaurant. She heard the car door open and screamed, “Help. Please help me.”

  Tommy Ray’s face filled with rage and his fist hit her face so hard she flew back against the dumpster and slid in a helpless heap to the ground, blood pouring from her nose. Before she could move, his boot caught her in the shoulder and then the ribs, and pain knifed through her body. Curling into a ball, she instinctively tried to protect herself, even though she knew it wouldn’t help. Footsteps pounded toward her as the boot struck her again.

  Her last thoughts were of Brady, her precious little boy.

  A minute later, it seemed, someone called to her through the dark fog. “Callie, open your eyes. Come on, Callie. I know you can hear me. Open your eyes.”

  Callie opened her eyes and saw a woman wearing a white lab coat leaning over her. “Good morning, Callie. I’m Dr. Minnerly.”

  “Hurts.” Callie hurt all over. Her eyes wouldn’t open all the way and her left shoulder and side hurt like the dickens.

  “I’ll have the nurse give you something for the pain. A police officer is waiting outside. Do you feel like talking with him now?”

  Lord, no. Not Tommy Ray. Unshed tears burned her eyes.

  The nurse put something in the IV and rolled the head of the bed up a little higher. Callie tried not to make a sound, but a little moan slipped out.

  “The police officer outside. Is he from Texas?”

  “No, he’s with the Tampa Police. The man who chased off your attacker last night is out in the waiting room. He won’t leave until he speaks with you. I’ll send him in after you finish with the police officer.”

  My attacker. The man who’d promised to love and cherish her forever.

  Seconds later, a Tampa police officer stood beside her bed. If he sent her back to Texas on that warrant, Tommy Ray would kill her for sure. And if he let Brady live, her little boy would grow up to be a mean-spirited, tobacco-chewing, foul-mouthed bully like Tommy Ray. The man Brady called “Daddy.”

  “Do you know who did this to you?”

  “Yes, sir. Tommy Ray Caldwell.”

  The officer wrote the name down in a little notebook. “Husband?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Does he live here in Tampa?”

  “No, sir, he lives in Texas.” In Caledonia County, on the ranch her granddaddy had promised to her, the place her daddy had given to Tommy Ray.

  “Is this the first time he’s hit you?”

  “No, sir.” And if Tommy Ray had his way, it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Have you reported this abuse to anyone before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No, sir.” Tommy Ray wouldn’t have hit her in front of anyone else, and how could she report it? It wouldn’t do any good anyway, except make him more determined to punish her.

  By the time the officer finished, the pain medicine had kicked in and she let the peaceful black fog lift her and carry her away, leaving the pain and fear behind.

  When she opened her eyes, another man stood beside her bed.

  “Hey, you’re awake. Remember me?”

  “Three eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns, and orange juice.” The tall, slender man came to the restaurant at least twice a week and always ordered the same thing no matter what time of day, and he always left a five-dollar tip. “You’re the one who helped me?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “My friends call me Skeeter.”

  “Thank you so much for helping me, Skeeter.” If he hadn’t come back to help her, she could have died right there by the dumpster. Knowing Tommy Ray, he would have killed her and thrown her body in that smelly dumpster, and nobody would have known what happened to her.

  “Do you have family or friends who can help you through this?”

  “No, sir.” No family except a sweet little boy who deserved a better life. If her folks were still alive, Tommy Ray wouldn’t have treated her so bad, and she didn’t want to put her friends in danger by getting them involved.

  “My sister had some trouble with her husband a few years back. He went to prison, and while he was gone, she changed her name and started over in a different state.”

  “Is she okay now?”

  “She’s fine. He’s dead.” He pulled a chair over with his foot and sat beside her bed. “One of the nurses is making arrangements for you to go to a shelter when you leave here, and, when you get back on your feet, you’ll want to find yourself a new place to live.”

  “I don’t know where to go.” She couldn’t stay in Tampa. Not now. And she couldn’t go home.

  “I have friends who own a business in Tacoma, Washington, a restaurant and nightclub they call The Brothel. It isn’t open yet. The building was a hotel at one time, so there are rooms upstairs. You should be safe there until you figure out what to do with the rest of your life. Bo and I were in the Marines together, and Greg is a wall of muscle with a cocky attitude. They’re good people, Callie. You can trust them.”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket and put it on the
rolling table beside her bed. “This is a newspaper article about the business, directions, and a phone number. I doubt your husband would think to look for you there, but if he does, Bo and Greg can handle it.”

  She gazed at this brave man who’d put himself in danger to save her life. “Skeeter, you’re my hero. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

  He nodded once, touched his head in a mock salute, and walked out of the room.

  He’d given her a place to go, but she couldn’t impose on people she’d never met. Besides, they wouldn’t want a seven-year-old boy living over an adult establishment, and she couldn’t go anywhere without her son.

  Homesickness left a deep ache in her heart, but the one thing she knew for certain was that she could never go home again.

  <>

  The late afternoon sun burned through the skylight, bathing the balcony and dining room below in bright light. Sweat trickled down Bo Gregory’s temple as he fastened the black wrought iron balcony railing in place.

  “Damn, it’s hot up here,” said his brother, Greg. “We have to get that air-conditioner installed this week.”

  Bo tightened the last screw. “If you’d start work at a decent hour in the morning, it wouldn’t be a problem. We’d already be finished up here.”

  “Yeah, well, I have other things on my mind these days, like a pregnant wife.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to take her to the doctor at four.”

  Bo threw down his screwdriver. “Damn it, Greg. You didn’t get here until one.”

  “I promised Neen I’d mow the grass this morning after my workout.”

  “That took all morning?”

  Greg shrugged.

  Bo was sick of hearing about Greg’s pregnant wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Neen. He did like her, but Greg used her as an excuse not to do his share of the work on the business. “Mowing the damn grass didn’t take you all morning.”

  “What the hell crawled up your ass today?”

  Rubbing his sore elbow, Bo said, “I’ve been working since six this morning. The least you could do is show up every now and then.”

  The Brothel was supposed to be a joint project, a nightclub and restaurant they could run together. With Greg’s DEA career over and Neen insisting he stay out of law enforcement, he needed something productive to do with his life. Bo tried to be understanding, but he felt like knocking his troublesome brother in the head sometimes. Especially today, when his elbow hurt like a damn toothache. He couldn’t handle all this work by himself, and he resented Greg for dumping it on him.

  “If you’re going to get surly, I’ll leave now.”

  “Fine. Go. Get out of here.”

  As Greg stomped off the balcony and down the back stairs of the old building, Bo heard the phone ring.

  “I got it,” Greg yelled. A minute later, he called, “Bo, it’s Skeeter. He wants to know if you heard from Callie.”

  “Who?”

  “You know, the battered woman he sent out. I told him you’d give her a job and a room to sleep in.”

  “You what?” Why didn’t he know about this?

  “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Hell, no, you didn’t tell me.”

  Bo walked into his bedroom and grabbed the phone. “Hey, Skeeter. How are things in Florida?”

  “Okay. I just put Dad’s house on the market yesterday. I should be back in two or three weeks. I’m driving back. Dad’s car is in better shape than mine.”

  “Good. I can use the help. Greg’s about as useful as that worthless commander we served with in Iraq.”

  Skeeter had been staying in one of the rooms upstairs and helping Bo run the bar, until his father died. Bo closed the bar. He couldn’t run it by himself, and he couldn’t work all day on the restaurant renovations and then run the bar half the night. He didn’t want customers around while they were working on the building anyway. Someone could get hurt.

  “Hey, Bo, did that girl show up there?”

  “What girl?”

  “The one I called about last month. Callie something. She should be recovered by now. Greg said she could stay there and you’d give her a job.”

  Bo wanted to deck his big-mouthed brother for dumping more responsibility on him. “This is the first I’ve heard about her.”

  The front door slammed, Greg on his way out. He’d put in his two hours today and left the rest of the work for Bo to do, as usual.

  “I gave Callie your phone number and directions, so you should hear from her any day now.”

  “Has she worked as a waitress before?”

  “Yeah, that’s where we met. I don’t know much about her husband, just that he’s from Texas and she’s running scared. He beat the crap out of her, Bo. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, he probably would have killed her.”

  Bo felt sorry for any woman who had to endure that kind of abuse, but he had enough on his shoulders without taking on a woman running scared. He didn’t have time to hold someone’s hand and play the white knight. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

  “I’ll take care of her when I get there. If she shows up.”

  Yeah, if she shows up.

  <>

  Two weeks later, Bo and Greg worked upstairs. Neen wanted to put potted plants on the balcony over the back of the nearly two-story dining area. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but like everything else they started in this old building, it turned out to be more work than they’d anticipated. They’d decided to put in French doors, and the opening they’d cut wasn’t big enough.

  As Bo broke into the wall, a bundle of rags fell out. He picked it up and a corner of the rag fell away, revealing the bones of a tiny hand. Bo carefully pulled away more of the rags until the skull was exposed. He’d seen a lot of death and injury in Iraq, but the sight of this dead baby turned his stomach. He held the bundle gently, as if the baby was asleep and he didn’t want to wake it.

  “What is it?” Greg asked from the other side of the hole in the wall.

  “A baby with a crushed skull. A murdered baby.” It hadn’t happened recently or the smell would have driven them out by now. He stared at the tiny bones. Why didn’t someone just leave the baby on a doorstep instead of killing it?

  Greg stepped through the open wall, plowed his hand through his dark blond curls, and peered over Bo’s shoulder at the bundle in his brother’s hands. “Aw, shit! I thought something smelled funny when we opened the wall. I’ll call it in, but you’ll have to take care of it, Bo. I can’t get involved in a police investigation now. Neen has an ultrasound scheduled at four-thirty.”

  “Damn it, Greg. Don’t dump this on me.” Bo’s anger at his brother flared up. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Why the hell not? You didn’t kill the baby, you just found it.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Greg said with a deep sigh. Neither one of them wanted to run a restaurant and nightclub, but they were committed now. Bo’s savings were invested in this white elephant, and Greg and Neen had invested a bundle. They couldn’t just walk away.

  “If the police put a temporary stop to the building renovations, it could delay the opening, and what will the publicity over the baby do to business?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. People might come out of curiosity.”

  “Or avoid the place entirely,” Bo said mostly to himself.

  Glancing over the balcony rail, Bo saw a woman with a cloud of dark hair standing in the dining room below. A tote bag hung from her shoulder and a suitcase sat by her feet. He put the bundle with the bones on the floor and called, “Can I help you?”

  She looked up. “I hope so,” she drawled in a soft Southern voice. “Is this The Brothel?”

  “It will be in a few weeks.”

  “I’m Callie Caldwell. Skeeter said you might could use a waitress, but I can cook, too, and clean. Whatever you need.”

  So this was the abused wife Skeeter sent. Why did she have to show up today
?

  Bo pointed to the table in front by the window, the only one in the big dining room. “Callie, have a seat. I’ll be right down.”

  After glancing at the baby’s bones, he wiped the sweat from his face with the tail of his T-shirt and walked downstairs.

  In the dining room, Greg stared at Callie, and Bo could see why. She reminded him of Snow White, with her pale skin, rosy lips, and dark hair. Her eyes were the most amazing shade of violet he’d ever seen, but they looked tired. Bo nudged his brother—his married brother—and said, “Would you mind getting us some iced tea while I talk with Callie?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She brushed the hair off her face. “I must look a fright after three days and nights on the bus.”

  Bo waved her toward a chair and sat across the table from the woman. “Skeeter said you’d need a place to stay.”

  “Yes, sir, I surely do.”

  “Do you smoke?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Drink, do drugs?”

  “No, sir.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality, Bo. If I had anywhere else to go, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll work hard, and I promise you won’t be sorry you let me stay.”

  He nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”

  Greg returned with three glasses of tea and sat beside Bo. Callie thanked him and sipped her tea. “Mmm. Back home we drink sweet tea, but it’s good without all that sugar.”

  Bo turned to Greg. “I thought you had to take Neen to the doctor.”

  He jumped up. “She’ll kill me if I’m late again. You’ll have to deal with the cops, Bo.” He ran out the front door.

  All the color left Callie’s face. “Cops?”

  “We found the bones of a tiny baby hidden in the wall upstairs.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, poor baby.”

  Bo glanced out the window and saw the patrol car pull up in front. “Here they come now. Find yourself a room upstairs and get settled while I talk with them. Sheets and towels are in the linen closet.”

  She gave him a full-fledged smile. “Thank you so much, Bo.”

  He watched her leave the room and understood why Skeeter got involved. She was a beauty, and that soft, sweet voice had him aroused as he hadn’t been in months. Too bad this wasn’t a real brothel. A woman like that would bring in a lot of business.