You Can't Escape (13 page)

“Emily . . . and Kara.”

“I remember Emily,” she muttered. “Sad story, there. And your mother was a lovely woman, even if . . . well . . . end of life can be a challenge. God is merciful, though.”

“Yee . . . es . . . ss . . .” Jordanna said.

“He took your mother’s pain away,” Margaret added.

Jennie interrupted, “Say you’ll stop by. Please. It would mean so much to Dayton.”

“If I have time.”

“I’ll give you my number. Put it in your phone.” Jennie waved at Jordanna’s purse, so Jordanna reluctantly pulled out her cell. Then Jennie carefully listed the digits, hovering over Jordanna to make sure she entered and saved them.

Feeling Margaret Bicknell’s sharp gaze still on her, Jordanna flicked the older woman a look and said, “You’re wondering if I’m the crazy one with the rifle. Yep, that’s me.”

“Oh, goodness, don’t say that!” Jennie declared.

Margaret Bicknell frowned, as if she found Jordanna’s behavior unsavory. Then she said, “We’re all susceptible to the devil’s influence. Sometimes we win the battles and sometimes we don’t.”

“Well . . . huh . . .” Jordanna murmured.

“You didn’t kill your father,” Margaret said. “God has a plan for us all.”

“Yes, he does,” Jennie agreed, grabbing Jordanna’s arm and practically dragging her away. Out of earshot, she said, “You’ll have to forgive her. Margaret’s had some troubles of her own. A close friend was killed in a drunk-driving accident. He was the drunk driver. No one else was hurt.”

“Oh . . .” She wanted to peel Jennie off her arm, but didn’t know how to politely.

“I really should be going. I’ve got stuff to do,” she said a bit lamely.

“Oh, so do I. But call me, okay? Really. It would be so nice to get you and your father together.”

Jordanna nodded, hearing her anxious tone. Jennie might act like everything was hunky-dory, but she knew about the rift between Jordanna and her father. She gave her a smile that she hoped didn’t look too fake, then walked away from the diner counter, heading for the front of the store. Though she’d had some half-baked idea about sitting down at the grill counter and having a moment of reflection, hoping maybe that Jennie would leave her to remember the few good moments from her childhood, that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

She placed her basket on the counter next to the cash register. The clerk, a young girl with solemn blue eyes and a bored attitude, took Jordanna’s credit card. All of a sudden, Jennie, whom she’d thought had left, popped up beside her.

“Where are you staying?” Jennie tried.

“I’m not. Staying. Like I said, I was just scouting around for hiking places.”

“Um . . . you never gave me
your
cell number.”

“I . . . never can remember it. You’ll get it when I call,” Jordanna said.

“You’re not putting me off on purpose, are you?”

“No . . .” Jordanna sighed and finally relented with, “I think you overestimate my father’s interest in seeing me. He’s not likely to forget I shot him.”

“With a gun?” the girl at the register couldn’t help bursting out. She ripped off the credit card receipt and slid it and a pen across the counter to Jordanna.

“Yup.” Jordanna signed and handed back the merchant receipt while the girl’s wide eyes grew wider.

“It was an accident,” Jennie told the girl frostily.

Jordanna picked up her sack of purchases and turned toward the door, but Jennie was in front of the double glass doors. “Seriously?” Jordanna asked. “You’re not going to let me out?”

“You’re not going to call.” Jennie looked sad and distressed. “For heaven’s sake, am I really asking for so much? Your father hasn’t seen you in years and here you are. You picked this area for your hike for a reason. It looks to me like you want to make amends.”

Jordanna gazed past her father’s wife with longing for the outside street once again. She’d fooled herself into thinking she could get away with hiding out at the homestead for a while. She should have checked Jay Danziger into a motel somewhere under her name and let him work out his problems with the Saldanos on his own.

Except you wanted him for yourself. Lie to others all you want, you’ve always been more interested in him than you want to believe.

“Jennie, get out of my way, or I’m going to push you through this door and let you fall on your butt.”

She whipped her phone out. “Give me your number.”

Jordanna started laughing. She couldn’t help herself. “Oh, for Christ sake,” she muttered, then snapped out the numbers, which Jennie quickly inserted into her phone.

“I never believed everything they said about you,” she said, not looking up as she moved out of the way. “I defended you.”

“Well, you made a mistake.” Jordanna pushed through one of the glass doors. Heading toward her RAV, she was supremely aware of Jennie, just inside the pharmacy, tracking her progress.

She pulled out of her spot, then drove around the block, taking her time. When she returned, she caught sight of Jennie heading north on Main Street, out of town, ostensibly back to her home. Quickly, Jordanna hurried back inside the pharmacy and ordered the prescriptions. Luckily, she got the younger guy this time, though he warned her he would have to call them in.

“Do it,” Jordanna told him. Of course, it would pinpoint their location to Dr. Cochran, but she was pretty sure the doctor couldn’t hand out that information indiscriminately so unless the authorities requested the information, they would be left alone. “And I’ll take those crutches,” she added. “Ones for around a six-foot-two man.”

“Hope these work,” she told Dance an hour later when she handed him the bag of scones and then lifted up the crutches. She’d made a big show of heading north through town in Jennie’s wake, then east toward the nearby town of Malone before circling back and returning along a perimeter road that kept to the outskirts of Rock Springs before finally ending up back on the two-lane road that led to the homestead driveway. The whole time she’d questioned herself, wondering why she hadn’t just made up a false number to give to her stepmother.

“Thanks,” Dance said. He took a scone and handed the bag back to her, eyeing the crutches. “Those oughta do. What about the prescriptions?”

“I have to go back for those. They’re working on ’em.”

He nodded. “I did manage to get to the bathroom and back while you were gone.”

“Progress. Good.” She pulled out the other scone, bit into it, and mumbled, “I shoulda got more coffee. And groceries.”

“I thought that’s why you went.”

“It was. Just didn’t work out that way.”

“What happened?” he asked, but Jordanna shook her head.

“How’s the leg doing?” she asked.

“I think I’ll need to change the dressing soon.”

“Oh . . . yeah . . .” The last bite of scone seemed to stick in her throat. “Like at a doctor’s office?”

“I’d like to avoid that if I could. I’ve got enough antibiotics, but it’ll probably have to be looked at soon.”

Jordanna could feel herself growing squeamish and tried to hide it. And what was the alternative anyway? Her father’s clinic?

“I just need some time to figure out what’s going on,” he said.

“You can’t go back yet,” she agreed, worried that’s where his thoughts were heading.

“Well, I’m not leaving today, clearly. You said you have an iPad . . . ?”

“Not charged.”

“How about paper and pens, then? Old school. I want to make some notes.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jordanna went back to the kitchen, which was the catchall where she’d dumped not only the pharmacy supplies, but everything she’d brought from her apartment as well.

“What happened in town?” he asked again, when she returned with a letter-sized, lined notepad and several pens.

“Nothing.”

“You weren’t kidding about being a terrible liar.” The light from outside the window illuminated his blue eyes and the three days’ growth of beard darkening the strong line of his jaw. Jordanna forced herself to look away from his very male attractiveness.

“Okay, I ran into some people I knew,” she admitted.

“Not a happy reunion,” he guessed.

“Nope.”

“When are you going to tell me the whole story?”

“Hopefully never,” she said, only half kidding. She had a thing for him. Had for a long time, but had never believed she would have the opportunity to actually be with him in any capacity, especially one-on-one. “I’m going out tonight to a bar to meet some people I know.”

“Really? So, the whole town’s not against you, huh?”

“Not all of them.” She almost told him all about her father, and sister, and mother, but when it came right down to it, her tongue wouldn’t form the words. Instead she said, “Apparently the body of a homeless man was found close by here and I wanted to follow up.”

“Close by here?” He circled a finger to encompass the house.

“That’s the rumor. And there’s a missing girl, but it sounds like she’s probably just run away from a strict, religious home. There are a lot of churches around Rock Springs and some of them with a lot of rules. Anyway, I’ll get some more food while I’m out this time, I promise. And the prescriptions, and tomorrow, fingers crossed, we’ll have electricity.”

She left him then, and returned to the kitchen with her cell phone, checking on her own e-mails, which were practically nil, but mostly just using the time to be by herself and away from the appeal of Jay Danziger.

Chapter Eight

September was just getting up from her desk when her brother walked into the squad room. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Detective August “Auggie” Rafferty was her twin and the reason she’d gone into police work in the first place. He’d joined the force several years before her and it had whetted her appetite for law enforcement, much to the horror of their wealthy, overbearing father, who’d basically disowned them for a time. Though Auggie had been working for the Laurelton Police Department when September was hired, he’d since joined a joint task force with the Portland PD that had morphed into a full-time position.

Now, she eyed him with affection and a certain amount of misgiving as his appearance meant he wanted something, probably related to the Saldano case, and she was on her way home. His hair was medium brown to her auburn, but they shared the Rafferty blue eyes. His easy, loping style was strictly his own as she was far more rigid, though she was in constant battle with her own type-A demons.

“Hey, Nine,” he greeted her.

“I’m outta here,” she informed him as he looped a leg over the corner of her desk as if he planned to stay awhile. “It’s quitting time. Look around. Everybody’s gone.”

“Hey,” George Thompkins objected, swiveling his desk chair around. He was, as ever, buried into the chair’s leather cushion. It practically took an act of congress to get him into the field.

September said drily, “My mistake, Detective Thompkins is still here.”

“I’m the point man when D’Annibal’s gone,” George reminded her, referring to their lieutenant, whose corner office had its lights out, shades drawn over the glass walls.

Ignoring him, she said to Auggie, “I don’t know why I ask since you never tell me what you’re doing. What I should have said was, what do you want?” She swatted at the leg on her desk which didn’t move one iota.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Auggie asked.

“You came here for a reason,” she reminded him.

“She doesn’t like being a fiancée,” George reported.

September rounded on him. “That is not true.” She was shocked that George, who was not known for his social awareness in any way, shape or form, had picked up on her ambivalence. “I do want to marry Jake. I do. It’s just . . . I’m having trouble with all the folderol and everyone’s happiness for us. It’s strangely overbearing.”

She would have gone on, but Auggie interrupted, “Yeah, well, I didn’t come to worry about your love life.”

“Thanks. I figured,” she said annoyed. “You want to go over the Saldano bombing, but you came to the wrong place. We’re no longer on that case. The feds have taken over.”

“I don’t give a damn about the feds,” he cut in sharply. “They can do whatever they damn please, but it’s Laurelton jurisdiction, and I’m going to find out who planted that bomb.”

“And you’re no longer a part of Laurelton jurisdiction,” she pointed out.

“Jesus, Nine. When did you become such an Urlacher?”

September just managed to keep herself from snapping back at him. Guy Urlacher was the seemingly mild-mannered pit bull who manned the Laurelton Police Department’s front desk and he was September’s personal nemesis. He was a stickler for protocol in a way that made her want to rip out her hair and scream, and he delighted in making her show her ID every time she entered the building, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth that drove her mad. Her partner, Gretchen, was tough and prickly enough to keep him at bay—a self-proclaimed bitch on wheels—and she frightened Urlacher just enough that he gave her a pass. But September had yet to learn the art to getting him to do what she wanted. She had an innate politeness that kept her from blasting him the way she did in her mind, and her passiveness, rather than out-and-out aggression like her partner, left Guy and her in a kind of low-grade, one-on-one war.

September told Auggie, “I stopped by the hospital and talked to Jay Danziger and his wife, Carmen, who were both singularly unhelpful.” She edged toward the hall, hoping he’d get the message. The break room was down to the right and held her locker, which in turn held her messenger bag and coat.

“Hmmm.” Auggie nodded, taking that in. “There were fragments of paper and cardboard. Looks like somebody left a box at either the front desk or just outside the main doors. The company security cameras weren’t on. Apparently this is par for the course, so there’s no record so far.”

September stopped short. “I thought the bomb was placed in the office next to the entry.”

“That was just a guess by the receptionist. Covering her ass for leaving the box outside. Lucky she did, or she could have been killed.”

“Okay, so the box was on the porch and you’re saying there’s no video. That’s a little convenient,” September muttered.