Run, River, Run

by C. F. Francis

“If it’s so clear to you, why did they give up on it?” Kevin asked.

  “The detective in charge didn’t disagree with me, but he said they’d exhausted all leads in that direction.”

  “What about the Englehart family?” Troy questioned Rick. “Steve and I didn’t turn up any mention of relatives in our search. Did you find anything different?”

  “A couple of distant relatives,” Rick answered. “Third or fourth cousins, I think. They’ve lived on the West Coast all their lives. Sheriff Chamblee never found any connection between the extended family other than bloodline. The cousins didn’t even know they were related to the Engleharts until the FBI tracked them down, and they want nothing to do with them.”

  “Where are they, specifically?” Colt asked.

  “Washington State. The investigators visited them again when the harassment started last year,” Rick explained. “They’re clean.”

  “We’re basically stuck then,” Kevin lamented.

  “It’s still too early to be stuck,” Troy commented. “If you want to continue to play guardian after tonight, I can make a trip up to North Carolina. Nose around a bit.”

  “To do some digging?” Kevin stared at his friend. He was surprised by the offer considering the events of that evening, but Shayne was beaming at her husband.

  “I don’t think River will go for it.” He was concerned how River would react to the continuing investigation.

  “We won’t tell her unless we have to. I won’t approach her aunt or Dan. I’ll check out the area. Poke my head around. Talk to a few neighbors. I can come up with a cover story that won’t put anybody on alert.” Troy paused. “You want her safe, don’t you?”

  Kevin scratched the back of his neck. He trusted Troy, and River’s problems weren’t suddenly going to disappear.

  “Thanks. I’ll pay for your plane ticket.”

  “Put away your wallet for now,” Gib interrupted. “I’ll see if my friend’s jet is available. It will get us there fast and give us the flexibility we need.”

  “Us?” Troy asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “Why not? We can tag team.”

  Troy rolled his remaining eye. “Ah, maybe I’ll fly commercial.”

  18

  Early the next morning, Kevin pulled his truck up in front of River’s condo. At Cat’s strong suggestion, his first stop had been Bailey’s Market for flowers then he swung by the restaurant to pick up her favorite breakfast. He grabbed the to-go box from the Sanibel Café and the bundle of flowers from the passenger seat.

  A police cruiser was parked in the lot. As he made his way over to talk with the officer, the woman was grinning. “Is that your insurance?” she asked, indicating his full hands.

  “Can’t hurt,” he answered, stepping back as the officer opened her vehicle’s door. “I’m Kevin Slawter.” He tucked the bouquet under one arm and offered her his hand.

  “Sarah Stanton,” she said, accepting his outstretched hand.

  “I assume it’s been quiet?” Rick would have been on the phone with him if anything had been reported.

  “Nothing unusual. I checked the stairwell and the bayside of her unit a number of times. Scared a couple of lizards, but other than that, nothing’s moved. The light was on all night in one of the rooms. Second balcony to my right,” the officer told him.

  Kevin wasn’t surprised. Had she fallen asleep or worked through the night? She’d dozed off at her drafting table once that he knew of. Either way, he’d best be prepared for an irritable female.

  “How long are you going to be here?” Kevin asked.

  “Long enough to see if you get your ass kicked to the curb. Rick wants you to call him if you can’t cover her.”

  Kevin would like to cover River from head-to-toe. Right now, he needed to start from scratch with her. Win her trust again.

  “Let’s see if flowers and/or French toast gets me in the door,” he said heading for the stairwell.

  Tucking the bouquet under his arm again, he tapped on the door. When the soft rap didn’t get a response, he knocked harder. Nothing. Was she ignoring him? With the equipment they’d installed, she would know he was at the door. He juggled the items in his hands and pulled his phone from his pocket. If she didn’t answer his call, he’d have the officer come up. River might answer the door for her. If that didn’t work, they’d be finding another way to get in there. Kevin’s tension was ramping up. Chill. She’s pissed at you, he reminded himself.

  Quickly finding her number, his finger was hovering over the call button when the door opened. River stood in front of him, blocking his entry. She looked tired, irritated—and enticing.

  “What do you want?” she asked, unbundling her messy hair from an elastic band. She ran her fingers through it before pulling it back into a ponytail. The action appeared automatic but had a certain sensuality to it. Her pouty lips begged to be kissed. Don’t go there.

  “I brought you breakfast,” he said, holding out the food container. “And an apology,” he added, pulling the flowers from beneath his arm.

  Those ice-blue eyes narrowed, tightening at the corners. Her aquiline nose twitched as her attention slipped to the container. “What’s in there?”

  “Pina Colada French toast.”

  She took a step back. He gave himself a mental fist bump.

  Shutting the door after him, she grabbed the flowers along with the container of food. Placing both gifts on the breakfast bar, she opened the to-go box and removed the small, plastic container which held the sweet, pineapple topping. She eyed him skeptically. He’d remained in the living room, figuring it best to wait for a further invitation.

  “I’m going to clean up,” she said. “Warm this in the oven and find something to put the flowers in. I don’t have a vase, so use whatever will work.”

  “No problem,” he said, but she’d already disappeared down the hallway.

  He found one of those single-use aluminum baking pans and put the bread into the oven, setting it on warm. He couldn’t come up with anything but a stunted pitcher for the flowers. She’d said “whatever”, so he filled it with water, cutting off some of the stems so the blooms didn’t fall out of the vessel. He sat them on the breakfast bar along with a paper napkin and utensils from the drawer. She didn’t keep much in the place. It underscored the fact she had no plans to stay. Why did that bother him? She had roots elsewhere. It was natural to want to go home—unless going home could get you killed. Not that she was all that safe here.

  Kevin checked the coffeemaker, confirmed it was prepped for several cups, then hit the brew button.

  Because the place was small, he heard the water from the shower shut off. Reaching in the oven for the French toast, he stopped when he heard the whir of her hair dryer.

  He switched off the oven but left the breakfast in it to keep it warm. Leaving the kitchen, he ducked into her studio. With her thick head of hair, he should have sufficient time to check out her office. It wasn’t snooping. Yeah, it was, but he was curious what had kept her up most of the night.

  The pages that littered the drafting table stood out in stark contrast to the obsessive neatness of the rest of the room. The inconsistency drew him closer. He picked up the papers, a knot forming in his stomach as he viewed the first image—a bird hung from some rafters—her cabin’s porch, he’d bet. When he got to the drawing of the rabbit in her bed and what he assumed was blood soaking through the covers, his jaw tightened. God, the visions that must be trapped in her mind. If these sketches were anything close to the actual events, they were horrific. She’d been living in the middle of a nightmare yet had stuck it out until the knife attack. The woman had guts or was stubborn—or both.

  When the hairdryer shut off, Kevin slipped back into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet, trying to dismiss the images he’d just seen, which would be a damn hard task. He placed the coconut encrusted toast along with a cup of coffee on the breakfast bar before retrieving his own coffee from the countertop.


  When she came around the corner, she looked refreshed and less stressed. A sparkle had returned to those stunning eyes. Her hair was loose and draped over her shoulders. She’d slipped into jeans and a tank top covered by an opened, long sleeve shirt with rolled up cuffs. She took his breath away. Shit.

  “Did you eat?” River asked, hopping onto the stool.

  “Before I left Gib’s. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “You bribed your way in here with breakfast.” Her eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends.”

  Taking a sip of coffee, he watched her through the rising steam. The statement was a small kick in the gut. He’d known it wasn’t going to be easy to get back into her good graces. At least his ass hadn’t been kicked to the curb—yet.

  “Look,” she said, aimlessly rearranging the food on her plate, “I’ve got work to catch up on. Don’t you have something to do?”

  “Not really. I thought I’d hang out on your living room balcony for a while. Enjoy the view. I won’t get in your way.”

  “You won’t get in my way because you won’t be here. I’m behind on my work. I don’t need distractions.” She glanced back at him as she rinsed her dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

  Kevin liked the idea of being a distraction. He considered it a back-handed compliment.

  “Why are you still here?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

  “Why are you so damned stubborn?” He quickly regretted the snappish question. The same tone had gotten them kicked out of her place last night. He was trying to make inroads, not further the divide. “Sorry. I was hoping to give the police officer outside a break by sticking around for a while today.”

  River’s back straightened. “There’s a policeman outside?”

  In addition to her tussled look when she answered the door, the fact she hadn’t noticed the police presence, added to his assumption that she had, indeed, fallen asleep while working.

  “Policewoman,” Kevin corrected. “She’s been there all night. She could use a break.”

  River looked toward the front windows.

  “Did you think Rick would leave you on your own?”

  Her shoulders slumped in resignation. She wasn’t stupid. She simply hadn’t given it any thought. After seeing her sketches, it was obvious her mind had been elsewhere.

  Her head fell, causing her silky hair to cascade forward, shielding her face. “Fine,” she sighed. “Stay. Inside or out. I’m going to get some work done.”

  “River?” Kevin said as she reached into the refrigerator. “I owe you an apology for last night. I shouldn’t have pressed the way I did.”

  Without a word, she grabbed a bottle of water and headed toward her work room. He didn’t know how to interpret her silent exit.

  River took a minute to gather herself once she was behind closed doors. She’d hoped she wouldn’t see Kevin again—that her rude remarks had chased them all away. In all honesty, her stomach fluttered when she’d seen him on the security monitor. She’d debated answering the door, but logic quickly told her if she didn’t answer, she would be inviting more trouble. He’d been getting ready to place a call and, if it was to the police, she didn’t want them coming back. She hadn’t been aware they had never left.

  He’d brought her breakfast and flowers. She’d never received flowers from anyone other than Aunt Amy or Dan on her birthday. And he’d remembered her breakfast order. The thoughtful bribe had worked and melted some of the ice she’d been shielding herself with since last evening. It pissed her off she had to battle to keep those feelings and yearnings at bay. Why did this man have her defenses falling?

  She gathered up the sketches she’d drawn last night. She should tear them up. Better yet, burn them. The act of producing them had been painful, but perhaps keeping them would save her from experiencing that pain again. She stuffed them in a portfolio she seldom used and set it on the top shelf of the closet. Hopefully, she’d cleansed those memories from her mind.

  Digging back into the project, the world faded into the background. She spent the morning setting the final stones in place then adding the last touches to the mask. Then she took time to study and admire the finished product. She never sold anything she wasn’t proud of, but this project had been particularly challenging. The circumstances in her personal life only served to heighten that challenge, but the mask had transformed into the work of art she had originally imagined. She hoped the client would be as pleased with the outcome.

  The mask would require additional support. The usual ribbons wouldn’t be enough to hold it in place. The stones made the mask heavier than most and her client made it clear she planned to be active during the performance when she wore it. They’d discussed the possibility and the options to address it, eventually coming up with a solution they both believed would work. It would be the last step before shipping the mask out.

  She was tired. She hadn’t slept, but a few hours in the last two days. Stress sat on her shoulders like ten-pound weights. A nap would be nice, but she was running dangerously close to missing the completion date for the project so she started in on the additional strapping which would be hidden by the wig her client planned to wear.

  An hour and a half later, the mask was officially complete. As River pulled a box and packing material from her supply closet, her stomach growled. A tap on the door made her jump.

  “River?” Kevin, of course. Who else would it be?

  Yanking the door open, her vision was filled with a broad, muscled chest struggling against a snug polo shirt. Her mouth went dry.

  “You okay?”

  Those caramel-colored eyes bore into hers. She licked her lips. “Uh, yeah. Fine,” she answered, shaking her head. “Just hungry.”

  “That’s what I figured. I’m a little hungry myself.”

  For the same thing? Christ. Get yourself under control.

  “I can warm up some of those leftovers, if you want,” he said, dropping his forearm which had been showing off some mighty fine pecs as he’d braced it against the doorframe.

  “You’re not here to wait on me,” she said. “Besides, I owe you lunch.” She shut her mouth so quickly, her teeth rattled. What the hell was wrong with her? She was ready to invite him out to lunch.

  “You’re not suggesting we leave here?”

  His stunned expression tripped the switch in the opposite direction.

  “And I know you’re not suggesting I’m going to be a prisoner. Are you?” Her hands fisted.

  “You were shot at!”

  “I sort of remember that.” She’d never forget. Her presence had almost gotten him killed.

  “Look.” He let out a huff. “I worry. I worry about you. I worry about people in general.”

  She took in the short, clipped sentences. His statement was part confession and part annoyance with himself. He cared for people—not for her in particular, but he cared for people—and that made her an ass for her snarky tone and insults.

  “It’s why you do what you do,” she said, letting the comment out on a soft breath. He was a healer and hero. A protector. The least she could do was respect him even if she resented the constraints he wanted to put on her.

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” she said, relaxing her stance. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “While I don’t frequently roam the island, I’m not going to be trapped in here.”

  “I get the feeling I’m not going to like where this is going.”

  “When I do venture out, I’ll let you guys know.” It killed her to even suggest they ride shotgun and put them in danger, but she hoped it would keep them from round the clock surveillance of her—which she had no doubt was the plan.

  “That guy had a rifle,” Kevin pointed out. His effort to keep his voice level was almost visible.

  “I totally get that, but I’m not going to let anyone determine my movements.” He’d probably just filed her under the “too stupid to live” category and
she wouldn’t deny it, if accused. One day her number would be up. There wasn’t a day she didn’t wake, wondering if that day would be the day she’d be free of her anxiety—whether it was by breaking the shackles of fear, or by joining her family. After all, she should have died fourteen years ago.

  She set the completed mask inside the box on her work desk. She’d finish the packing later.

  “I’m heading to Grandma Dot’s. I have a craving for a grouper sandwich. Then I’m going to do a bit of shelling.” What she had was a craving for a little independence and perhaps a bit of fresh air. He was going to blow a gasket when he saw her destination.

  19

  The woman had a death wish, Kevin swore as he followed River out of the complex. She hadn’t waited for him. She’d simply grabbed her purse, breezed by him and headed out the door. He’d quickly set the alarm and raced to the ground floor, but River was already in her car and on the move. Either she liked to get under his skin, or she was sending a message that he wasn’t needed—or both.

  When she made a left turn off of Periwinkle Way, his jaw literally dropped as River pulled up to the front of a small restaurant. It sat on a dock next to a marina which was packed with boats of all sizes. The location wasn’t the issue, the structure was—or lack of it. Most of the seating was outdoors under a covered patio. There appeared to be some seating inside the building, but he held little hope River would reach for the door. She didn’t.

  He pulled out the chair across from her. There was no position he could take that would allow him to have a visual of the entire area. Fortunately, it was a bit late in the day for lunch, so the small restaurant was sparsely populated. That didn’t mean the area was safe. Boats, which would make excellent hiding places, surrounded them. Since she hadn’t preplanned her foray and they hadn’t been followed, the chances were low of her being targeted.

  “What is it with you?” he asked. “You’re a sitting duck out here.”

  “I’ve lived in fear. I still live in fear, but I have to occasionally remind myself it doesn’t own me.”