Dead Running (31 page)

Dad smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Hot Redhead.”

“But how can you”

Dad cut me off. “Honey. Your marathon’s a week from today.”

My stomach jumped. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, but . . .” I had to be the bigger person. “I’m not going to run it.” I gestured towards Raquel’s room. “With everything that’s happened, I just can’t do it. I can’t be the reason that Muscle Man gets you.”

“I want you to run it. You’ve worked so hard.” He exhaled slowly. “Too many times I’ve kept you in the dark because I thought it would protect you.” He glanced up at me. “You’re so strong now, Cassie. I should’ve let you know I was alive. I’m sorry.”

I swallowed, blinking quickly. I gave my dad a hug. “Thanks. I know you were just trying to protect me.”

Dad cleared his throat then continued, “I want you to understand the situation. Four FBI agents will follow us to St. George. Two will follow you throughout the marathon, two will stick with me. They’ll also alert the local police to be on the lookout, but that force will be overwhelmed by the marathon.”

“Tell me the truth. If I run this marathon am I putting you in more danger?”

Dad shook his head. “No.” He barked an insincere laugh. “Some of the FBI believe it’s a great way to force a showdown. Like you’re some kind of dangling carrot.” He glanced up at me. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, but I’m afraid they’re right. There will be so many people, so many unknowns. This will be the best opportunity Ramirez’s men have to strike. Are we brave enough, Cassidy?”

I looked at my dad’s strong chin, his hazel eyes, his mouth that used to laugh so easily. I closed my eyes and pictured Raquel bruised and beaten. My brother watching his beloved wife in anguish. Poor little Tate afraid and crying for his mom. Was I brave enough to run this marathon and bring Muscle Man out to fight? If I didn’t risk it, was I betraying Raquel, my dad, and my mom’s memory?

“I’m not afraid,” I lied.

Dad chuckled, pulling me against his side. “You never are.”

How I wished that were true.

The parking lot was awash with hundreds of headlights cutting through the steady downpour. Runners spilled from vehicles and sloshed through puddles, trying to beat each other to the bus loading station.
Save it for the race
, I thought. Four-thirty was too early to act this competitive.

My stomach hadn’t settled since I’d awakened at three-thirty. Dad tried to force-feed a banana and piece of whole wheat bread down me at our hotel. I chomped on and attempted to swallow the mushy banana and dry bread, but my stomach rebelled. I spit most of it in the garbage can.

Dad escorted me from the Honda Accord, his car-of-the-day, towards the loading area for runners.

“I don’t think you should be out here.” I glanced around the busy parking lot. “So exposed like this.”

Dad’s grip on my elbow tightened. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.” He pointed at two men, the same agents who had followed Damon and I from the Japanese restaurant and rode bikes through the Top of Utah Marathon. “They’ll be watching over you. My agents are close by as well.”

We stopped next to a crowd of runners. Despite the soaking, I wasn’t quite ready to jump into line. I studied the darkened parking lot, making sure Damon wasn’t there. “Will my guys be on bikes?”

He nodded. “They won’t be able to stay as close as I’d like but . . .” He forced a smile. “You’ll be okay. We’re not afraid anymore, right? Thanks for your little pep talk back at the hotel.”

“That talk was for me.” I bent down and retied my shoelaces for the third time, nothing felt right this morning.

Dad took off his raincoat and shielded both of us, ushering me into the bus line. “Let’s get you out of this rain.”

Shivering, I checked the crowds of people for Muscle Man. “I’m going to be in it for the next few hours."

“It’ll ease up. It never rains for very long here.” Dad rubbed my arm. “You’ve got your cell phone?”

I patted my shorts pocket. “Right here.”

“Jared or I will call if something happens with Raquel, so don’t worry.” He stayed with me as the line snaked forward. “You have some food and water?”

I lifted a plastic St. George Marathon bag, designed to leave clothes at the starting line. “Right here.”

Dad gave me his stern father look. “You’ll eat something before you run.”

“Once my stomach settles.”

The line slowly slipped towards the school buses spewing black smoke into the pre-dawn air.

Dad turned to me. “I won’t be able to see you until Mile 21. They said unless I’m volunteering I’d have to drive so far out of my way to see you earlier that I’d miss you at the finish line.”

My stomach dropped. I suddenly felt like a little girl going to her first sleepover and leaving the comfort of my parents and my canopy bed. An awful gnawing inside made me wonder if I’d see my dad again.

I grabbed him and squeezed. “Be careful, Dad.”

He returned the hug. “You be careful.” He pulled back and studied my face for a second. “And have fun.”

I forced a smile. “Should be a real party.”

“Load up,” a man yelled.

There were only a few people in front of me in line. I reached the steps. “I’ll see you at 21,” I yelled.

“I’ll be there,” he called back.

The tide of people swept me up and onto the bus. As I trudged towards the back a large palm encircled my waist. I jumped and spun, my nervousness increasing when I saw Damon grinning at me, his chiseled face shadowed by a baseball cap.

“H-hey, where’d you come from?” How had he just happened to be on the same bus as me?

Damon walked me down the aisle and ushered me into a seat. I stared out the window, trying to locate my father. Damon peered over my shoulder. “Who are you looking for?”

“My dad.”

“I missed him,” Damon muttered.

I turned away from the crowd. Dad had already disappeared. It bothered me immensely that Damon cared that he’d missed him.
 

“Is he meeting you after?”

I nodded, biting my lip and clutching my clothing bag with sweaty palms.

Damon smiled. “It will be nice to finally meet your dad.” He pushed my sweatshirt back a few inches and tugged on one of my Princess Leia braids. “This is cute.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, it is definitely not cute, but I promised El I’d run in Princess Leia braids. It’s for her.” My stomach churned. Dad had never told me whether he’d found out more information about Damon. With the week we’d had with Raquel I had hardly thought about Damon. But Dad had said Damon’s initial check came up clean. Unlike Jesse who was a definite no. Would I ever feel Jesse’s touch again? Should I be trying to ditch Damon?

My FBI guys loaded up last with their bikes. I didn’t dare stare at them and make the connection obvious, especially since Damon might remember them from the Japanese restaurant, but I was so glad to see them on the same bus.

The bus lumbered away. I endured the dark, bouncy ride and Damon’s questions about why I hadn’t returned his calls. He couldn’t refute my excuse. He knew how important Raquel was to me. A smattering of rain and a whole lot of wind greeted us as we descended from the bus. My stomach danced. I shook from cold and nerves. I just wanted seven a.m. and that gunshot. I couldn’t handle much more waiting.

My phone rang. I snatched it from my shorts and turned my back on Damon.

“It’s going to be today, Cassie.” Jared was never one to waste time. “The doctors are prepping her for surgery in a few hours.”

“Today!” I stomped my feet. “You kidding me?”

Jared blew out a long breath. “The baby’s heart rate is decelerating. It’s too dangerous to keep him in any longer. They think his lungs are developed enough and if not . . .” Jared paused.

I held my breath and prayed through the entire pause.

“A lot of babies have been in NICU and recovered okay.” He made another shaky sound. “I wish you were here.”
           
Damon watched me without saying anything.

“I should come home,” I said. “You need Dad and me. Don’t you? Don’t you need us?”

“No,” Jared said. “I’ve got Nana and Tasha is coming soon.”

“Well, that makes me feel all reassured.”

Jared gave me a small chuckle. Damon smiled at me. His large hand massaged my upper arm. I smiled in gratitude. He was always so nice to me.
 

“You run that race,” Jared said. “You’ve trained too hard. El was so proud of you. You kick it for her and the baby.”

Tears squeezed from my eyes. “It’s just a stupid race. Raquel and the baby are a billion times more important.”

There was silence on the line. “You listen to me, sis. Raquel has always believed in you. She’s just been waiting for you to succeed. She knew you wouldn’t quit. You’re going to run that race for her and the doctors are going to deliver our baby and El’s going to recover.” He coughed, sniffed, and continued, “I’m proud of you. You do it for her.”

The phone disconnected. Jared had exceeded his emotional capacity.

I stared at my cell phone and wondered why I was hundreds of miles from the most important people in my life. I met Damon’s gaze. “Raquel’s having her baby.”

He squeezed my arm. “Then this will be a doubly special day.”

“How much time do we have left?” I asked. I didn’t want to talk about the situation at home and be drained from emotion.

“It’s twenty to seven.”

“Um, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but . . .” I did not want another accident in a race and I needed some way to call my dad without Damon listening.

He grinned at me. “You want to check out the décor in the port-a-potties.”

“I hear they’re very spacious.”

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me through the crowd waiting for the privilege of using a stinky bathroom.

“I don’t want you to have an accident while I’m running with you.”

I stuck out my tongue. “Very funny.” A door opened and I ran in. I texted my dad while I peed, not daring to call and have Damon hear.

“Damon’s here. What do I do?”

The answer was almost immediate. “Stay away from him.”
 

“Is he with Muscle Man?”

“Nothing to confirm that but I’d feel better if you weren’t with him.”

“Ok.”

I pushed send and slipped out of the port-a-potty. Damon stood by the door waiting for me. How in the world was I supposed to ditch him?

“We’d better get going,” he said.

I bobbed my head. He followed me up to the road. A gunshot signaled seven a.m. had finally come. We surged through the starting line with a flowing mass of people. It was inky dark, rain pattering our faces. I pulled my visor down farther and darted in and out of people, trying to ditch Damon. His long legs ate up any distance I created between us. With the darkness and lack of visibility I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. The first mile passed so quickly I could hardly believe it.

“7:07:21,” a man called out as we sailed through mile marker one.

Probably a bit faster than I should be running, but my marathon pace was no longer the biggest concern. Ditching Damon was easier said than done. I didn’t have the stride of a 6’2” man with legs longer than a giraffe’s neck. “I know you’ve trained for a faster pace than this,” I told him. “I won’t feel bad if you go ahead.”

“I’d feel bad, I want to be with you.”

What did I say to that? “Um, thanks.”

“I’ve already qualified for Boston. Let’s get you there.”

Could Damon really have some other agenda? I glanced around and saw my bike riders fifty yards behind us. With the FBI there and Damon acting completely normal, I was having a hard time wasting energy trying to escape him.

We ran into a headwind but the rain started to taper. An hour later, the sky lightened a bit and the crowd thinned, even if I wanted to hide from Damon I couldn’t. I prayed for the wind to stop. When that didn’t work I prayed that I wouldn’t feel it so much. After several miles I noticed that either the storm was abating or my prayers were working. We sailed through the miles and I felt great. To get past the boredom I shoved in my iPod and imagined my nephew coming into the world.