She Can Hide (She Can Series)

by Leigh, Melinda

  “Are you going to be home tonight?” Ethan asked Derek.

  Derek sniffed. “Yeah. Probably.”

  “Would you mind keeping a lookout?” Ethan took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “There’ll be a cop here, but you know what’s normal and what’s not for the neighborhood. If you see anything suspicious, please call me.” He dug a business card out of his chest pocket and held it out.

  Derek hesitated. Indecision stiffened his stance. He plucked the card from Ethan’s two fingers.

  “I can do that,” the boy said, his back straightening.

  Ethan nodded. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” Derek turned to Abby. “You still want me to take Zeus for his walk?”

  “I’m sure he’d love that.” Abby smiled. “But be careful.”

  “Always.” Derek snapped the leash onto Zeus’s collar, and the two headed out of the kitchen. Abby heard the front door open and close.

  She turned to Ethan. “He’s usually shy. How did you charm him?”

  “You think I’m charming?” A wicked glint shone in Ethan’s eyes.

  Yes. “I didn’t say that.” Abby blushed. “I was talking about Derek.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I spotted him walking to school this morning and gave him a ride. No big deal.”

  “He got into your police car?” Abby asked. Derek would walk to the coast before he willingly got into a cop car.

  “No.” Ethan sighed. “I was driving my brothers’ car. It’s a MINI Cooper, probably the least intimidating vehicle on the face of the earth. It’s a bright red shoebox outfitted with a lawnmower engine.”

  “Thank you. Derek needs more people he can trust.”

  Ethan shifted his weight. “What’s his story?”

  Abby went into evasive maneuvers. She couldn’t forget that Ethan was a cop. There were things he couldn’t know. Things that could make Derek vulnerable. “Single mom. She has to work a lot.” OK, well that wasn’t a total lie. When Krista was working, she did work a lot, mostly to make up her late bills from her bi-annual man and booze binge. “They’ve had some rough times.”

  “Where’s his dad?”

  “Neither Krista nor Derek has ever mentioned him.”

  “He seems like a good kid. He was going to walk to school today. That’s a long haul in this cold. Most kids would’ve gone home and skipped it.”

  “He’s very diligent about school.” Abby’s chest warmed. Her tutoring had helped, as if that one small bright spot in Derek’s life mitigated a small part of the horror that overshadowed hers.

  On the stove, the kettle whistled. Abby reached for it. “Tea?”

  “No, thanks.” Ethan leaned a hip against the counter. “What does Derek’s mom do?”

  “She’s a waitress.” Time for a subject change. “If you didn’t find any sign that someone broke into the garage, how did my Gatorade get poisoned?”

  “We’ll have to assume for now that the GHB was put into your drink while it sat in your car in the school parking lot.”

  “That’s not much better.”

  “No. It isn’t. It means whoever did it knew your routine. He planned for you to drink the Gatorade on your way to the park. He must have followed you.” Ethan stopped there, but his eyes said more.

  Abby shuddered. Whoever had tried to kill her had been watching her long enough to predict her activity.

  She poured steaming water into her mug. “After the kidnapping, I couldn’t stay in the same house where I’d been attacked. I didn’t even want to stay in the same area. I needed a fresh start. Now I’m thinking I’ll never be able to get away from it.”

  “I can’t imagine what you went through,” Ethan said. “And I’m pissed off that he got out of jail early. If he’s the one behind this, we’ll get him. What I can’t figure out is why he’d risk his freedom for revenge.”

  “We’re talking about a man who kidnapped me because I wouldn’t go on a date with him. That’s not exactly rational behavior. He spent a couple of years in prison because of me. I can’t imagine how angry he is now.” Helplessness filled Abby’s chest. God, she despised feeling vulnerable. Deep inside her a switch flipped. She couldn’t take it anymore. Regardless of the risk, this time was going to be different. She was taking offensive action. No more running and hiding.

  The decision empowered her. Yes, she was still scared. She would be foolish not to be. But she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for another attack or give other people control over her future. She was taking charge.

  Ethan’s jaw tightened. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

  “First I need to find out how and why he got released.” Abby tossed her tea bag and added a spoonful of sugar to her drink. “The prosecutor who handled my case died of a heart attack a few months ago. I have an appointment with his replacement tomorrow. I want to know what happened. I was registered to receive a notification if Faulkner was released.” Abby wrapped her hands around her mug and sipped. The hot liquid warmed her belly but couldn’t cut through the chill in her veins. “Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

  She turned toward the table, but Ethan blocked her path. Her tiny kitchen wasn’t designed for entertaining. He made no move to get out of her way. “I think you should let me handle it.”

  Abby shook her head. “I can’t. For my own sanity, I have to be proactive. I won’t hide.” Not anymore.

  Ethan nodded. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  Their gazes met. His acceptance soldered the connection between them. He wasn’t going to demand she cede control.

  Respect flared bright blue in his gaze. “How did you get an appointment that fast?”

  “I convinced the secretary that the new prosecutor wouldn’t like to hear about my case on the news.” Not that Abby would ever go to the media. The last thing she wanted was publicity. But her bluff had worked like magic.

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Ethan stepped closer. “I’d like to drive you.”

  Abby leaned away, but her heels hit the cabinets. “That’s not necessary.”

  His lean body crowded her. “I know. But it’s my day off, and I don’t want to spend it worrying about you.”

  “You would worry?” The heat in Abby’s stomach spread. She should want to run and hide from Ethan. Instead, he made her blood sing through her veins. Desire flared in his eyes, mesmerizing her.

  “Yes.” Ethan took her mug from her hands and set it on the counter. His irises darkened as he squared his body off with hers. “I would. All day. Just because I understand and respect your need to be involved in your case, I still want to protect you.”

  “Um. OK then.” Abby’s trapped heart skittered. “I have to leave by seven.”

  “I’m an early riser.” A car engine sounded outside. “That’ll be Pete,” he said against her cheek. His minty breath wafted over her face. “He’s going to watch your house tonight.” Ethan pressed a kiss to her temple, near the stamp-size Band-Aid that covered the healing cut. The contact of his lips sent tingles radiating through Abby’s body. Her eyes drifted closed, and her hand strayed to Ethan’s chest. Her fingers splayed, touching as much of him as possible with one hand. Under the uniform shirt, his muscles were hard under her palm. He smelled of peppermint, and his lips lingered a few seconds longer than she expected, but disappointment washed through her when he lifted his mouth from her skin. “Be careful, Abby. Call me if anything scares you.”

  “I will.”

  “Pete will come in to introduce himself.” He pulled away and searched her face. “He’s a good cop. You can trust him.”

  Abby nodded. She believed him. Why? What was different about Ethan?

  He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the kitchen.

  Swaying slightly, Abby pu
t a steadying hand on the counter next to her. Wow. She touched her cheek. He hadn’t even kissed her on the mouth and she was practically swooning like a schoolgirl. What would he taste like?

  The front door opened. Zeus and Derek trooped in. Abby walked to the front window. Outside, Ethan was talking to a short, stout, older cop. Ethan looked at the window as if he sensed her presence. His gaze burned through the chill that hovered near the glass.

  Uh-oh. Her hand fluttered to her throat. There was no mistaking that look. He wanted her. She wondered if the rest of his muscles were as solid as his chest. Abby shut down her imagination before it ran with the idea.

  This was not the time.

  Ethan turned toward his car, while the older cop started up the walk. She wished it were Ethan watching over her through the night.

  After Derek went home, she let the dog out one last time. Across the backyard, Mr. Sheridan waved at her and walked up to the fence. Abby grabbed her jacket, stomped into a pair of boots, and went out to see what her cranky old neighbor wanted.

  “Bad storm coming.”

  “I know.” Abby clutched the lapels of her jacket together. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, but thanks for asking.” Mr. Sheridan rubbed his gnarled hands together. “Not many people know how to be neighborly these days. I got extra rock salt in the shed if you need some.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mr. Sheridan jerked a thumb toward Derek’s house. “The Tanner kid was in your yard again.”

  “I know.” Abby smiled. “It’s all right. He walks the dog for me.”

  “Long as it’s all right with you.” Mr. Sheridan thought everyone under the age of twenty was a “hoodlum” with intentions of robbery or vandalism, but he meant well.

  “Thanks for keeping an eye out.”

  “The weather keeps me in more than I’d like, but I try.” He shrugged. “You take care. Good night.”

  “Good night.” Abby called Zeus and went back inside. She shed her outerwear and checked all her locks before going up to her bedroom. The door to the walk-in closet was open from Ethan’s search. She turned on the light and went inside. A small fireproof safe hunkered in the far back corner. Abby picked it up and carried it into the bedroom. Inside was her plan-of-last-resort. Spinning the combination to the correct numbers, she lifted the top. Tucked in a neoprene holster was her mom’s 9mm Glock. She ignored the envelope full of cash and the prepaid, unregistered cell phone that remained in the box.

  Abby gripped the weapon in her right hand. The weight and feel was simultaneously comfortable and eerie. She hadn’t handled the gun since her mom overdosed. The kidnapping and trial had proved to be too much for Mom’s already precarious emotional state.

  But she hadn’t left Abby without a legacy. Some women passed beauty tips down to their daughters. They instructed them in the art of applying mascara and lipstick. Others taught their girls to cook, leaving recipes as their lasting gift to their families.

  Abby’s mom had taught her daughter to put a cluster of bullets into a torso-shaped target at twenty feet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Zeke parked his Camaro behind the Dumpster and hurried toward his room. His get-out-of-jail-free card had been a lucky break. But were a couple of years long enough for a certain client to forget about money spent and not earned? Too bad his release had been so public. It was hard to stay under the radar when he’d been in the paper. The list of affected inmates had been long, though. Maybe no one had noticed his name among the many.

  He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was a bare-bones rat hole complete with bolted-down remotes and mystery stains on the carpet. But it was only temporary housing. Once the settlement from the county came through, Zeke could pay off his outstanding debt and move far, far away from New Jersey. He tossed his jacket on the bed and shivered. Enough wind blew through the window jambs to move the faded curtains.

  Florida sounded good. Yeah. He was heading south. No more freezing his nuts off.

  He cranked the thermostat on the wall to seventy-five. The unit on the wall shuddered, rattled, and wheezed out a pathetic cough of lukewarm air. Zeke knew the room temperature would barely budge.

  The attorney he’d met with said the county would settle. His conviction had been based on tainted evidence, which was why it had been overturned. They’d fucked up, and they knew it. They wouldn’t want the expense of a huge lawsuit they couldn’t win.

  It was only a matter of when and how much.

  Zeke headed for the bathroom. The room was a friggin’ freezer, but the hot water heater worked just fine.

  He stopped short at the gun muzzle in his face and the pair of dead eyes focused on him. “Hello, Zeke.”

  Guess his client hadn’t forgotten. Zeke cursed himself. Lawsuit or not, he should have left for Florida the day he was released. Poor was better than broken kneecaps, missing fingertips, or worse.

  “I can get the money.” Zeke backed up, hands in the air. He was going to be OK. Right? A dead man couldn’t repay debts, and money was the key to the universe. But the guy with the dead eyes was scary. “I’ll even pay interest.”

  “Zeke, close the curtains.”

  Zeke back-stepped and drew the heavy drapes across the window. Thick blackout fabric completely blocked the sunlight, showing his willingness to cooperate in good faith. “There. No one can see in.”

  “Perfect,” Dead-eyes said. “This is a very private conversation.”

  Ryland picked up his buzzing phone.

  “I’ve handled the first issue,” Kenneth said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Moving on to number two.”

  “Thank you, Kenneth.” Pleased, Ryland ended the call. He swiveled to stare out the glass wall of his office. The afternoon sun sparkled on the choppy sea with deceptive brightness. The sand below looked warm and inviting. But whitecaps dancing across the Atlantic exposed the truth. A frigid arctic wind turned the beach brutally cold.

  Unfortunately, Kenneth’s phone call had been the highlight of his day. Completing the cessation of his last illegal business venture was proving to be even more difficult than he’d anticipated.

  His intercom beeped. “Mr. Medina to see you, sir.”

  “Send him in.” Ryland turned back to his office, to his work, and greeted one of his oldest business associates. He stood and extended a hand across his desk.

  “Paul, always good to see you.” The lie slid out of Ryland’s mouth as easily as the sun disguised the frigid conditions on the beach. “Scotch?”

  “Yes.” Paul inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “On the rocks. Thank you.”

  Ryland went to the small bar in the corner. He filled two tumblers with ice and poured a generous shot of amber liquid in each.

  Like Ryland, Paul Medina had aged since they’d both started out. Gray peppered Paul’s black hair, and his skin bore the craggy evidence of his enthusiasm for golf. Ryland studied his guest. Did his own eyes reflect the same detached brutality? Did others meet his gaze and flinch at the knowledge that no shred of mercy lived within?

  Probably. God knew Ryland had earned his hardness with deeds that would cause nightmares in a compassionate human being.

  “I didn’t know you were in town.” Ryland settled in his seat. “Don’t you usually stay in Miami until March?”

  “I fly in now and then to keep tabs on the business.” Paul sat in one of the leather-and-chrome guest chairs and crossed his legs. He steepled his fingers and looked at Ryland over them. “You can’t trust anyone completely.”

  Paul’s implication was clear, as was his disinterest in small talk, which suited Ryland just fine. He’d had enough bullshit as well.

  Ryland leaned back in his chair. “What brings you to my office today, Paul? Surely you didn’t fly in from Miami just to talk about our grandchildren.”

  “No. As I said, t
he trip is about business.” Paul’s black eyes flashed with annoyance. “Did you really think you could simply cease taking shipments?”

  Ryland chose his words carefully because checking Paul for a wire would have been a direct insult.

  “You had adequate notice.”

  “And I warned you that there would be repercussions if you proceeded with your plan,” Paul snapped.

  Ryland waved a hand. “You had plenty of time to find other avenues of distribution.”

  “You cannot leave a hole in the delivery process.” Paul’s tone went colder than the ice cubes in his scotch. “And what about your sons? Don’t they deserve the same opportunities that made us what we are today?”

  No. They deserved more. Ryland swallowed the words. His sons had never been part of that end of the company. They didn’t even know it existed. He’d groomed them to take over as CEO and CFO of the legitimate company.

  “I made myself clear last year, Paul.” Ryland didn’t change his position. He remained comfortably reclined. “You knew this would be coming.”

  “There are many others who depend on your company’s role in the industry. You’ve left us with a hole we cannot fill.”

  “That isn’t true,” Ryland said. “There are plenty eager to step into place.”

  “But trust hasn’t been established. The risks are too great to open the doors to new partners. You won’t reconsider?”

  Ryland didn’t blink. “No.”

  Paul stood. He set his glass on the desk with a final clunk. “Remember, Ryland. I’m not the only one you betray, just as you are not the only one at risk.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Abby watched the scrub pines flow past the truck window. After the trial and her mother’s death, she’d sworn she’d never come back here.

  “This is where you lived before you moved to Westbury?” Ethan exited the Atlantic City Expressway and followed the sign toward Harris, where the county prosecutor’s office was located.