Because of a Girl (19 page)

Until now, Meg hadn't been actively worried, although she'd overheard Emily on the phone the other day, enough to suspect she was still asking questions. When Meg called her on it, Emily had wrinkled her nose and said, “I've run out of people to ask. Nobody knows
anything
.”

This morning, Meg took a sharp look up and down the street as Emily walked away, her pack bumping on her back. Mr. Nielsen, near the corner, was out getting his paper, too. He called a hello to Meg and said something to Emily as she passed. There was no traffic at all, but Meg did hear the bus coming.

Still, she stepped back behind the lattice of the arch that held the long, bare canes of the old rambler rose and waited until Emily and one other student—the boy—climbed the steps, disappearing inside the bus. She couldn't protect Emily 24/7, but the two-block walk to and from the bus stop was one of the few times Emily was outside and alone. And, yes, the mousetrap probably
was
a stupid prank.

She hurried back into the house. Today was Friday, which meant garage sales. She'd already printed off the ones she'd found on Craigslist and circled the best possibilities in the local paper, the
Frenchman Courier
. At this time of year, there weren't all that many sales. Once people could hold them outdoors, there'd be a lot more.

She'd be home in an hour and a half if these weren't worthwhile; sometimes she didn't even get out of the car. Experience let her evaluate in a quick scan whether the offerings were junk or possible treasures.

The pickings turned out to be decent, if not spectacular, so she spent part of her afternoon cutting apart and washing what wool garments she'd found. Then, keeping an eye on the clock, she sat at the kitchen table sketching out a design that had come to her during the night.

Just as she was thinking she hadn't heard from Jack, the phone rang.

His voice was clipped when he told her something had “come up.”

“Can't go home at five.” There was a pause. “Not that I can expect you to keep feeding me every day. I'd actually intended to suggest I take you and Emily out tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Mexican?”

“I like Mexican.” And it wouldn't break her heart to have a night off from cooking. Her budget didn't allow for many meals out. “Do you have just a second?”

“For you I do.” His voice had softened.

She repeated what Emily had told her about the supposed prank.

Jack was quiet for just a moment, then said, “I don't like it.”

“It's probably nothing, but I thought you should know. Now go to work.” She hesitated. “I miss you,” she admitted, surprising herself.

“I miss you, too,” he murmured, then was gone.

Meg sat for a minute, wondering what horror he'd had to see today. There'd been something in his voice. She couldn't imagine how he did his job and held on to any grain of optimism.

It was another couple of hours before she surfaced. She was pleased with the design now carefully traced on Scottish linen, an expensive backing fabric she used only for one-of-a-kind rugs she expected to bring a high price. She'd sorted and chosen wool strips with which she would start tomorrow.

Emily was taking the elementary school bus home, which she occasionally did to take advantage of the extra hour and a half. She claimed she and a couple of her friends were working on a project, but Meg suspected they just wanted to hang out.

At four thirty, she stepped out on the porch, shivering involuntarily.
Ugh.
She could hardly wait for spring. Longer days, too—dusk was already deepening the sky. It would be full dark by five fifteen, and that was with the days lengthening.

Too chilled to stand there, she decided to walk partway to meet Emily.

The bus lumbered into sight down the street and screeched to a stop at the corner still nearly a block away. Meg kept walking. Emily was the first out, followed by half a dozen younger kids who dispersed toward their houses.

Her attention was caught when headlights came on in a big SUV Emily was passing. It was parked at the curb, not in a driveway. Funny, Meg hadn't noticed anyone coming out of any of the houses or heard the door slam.

Emily caught sight of her and waved, walking faster. Apparently it was okay for Meg to meet her, given that only young kids were on the bus.

The sky had darkened even more since she'd started down the street. Meg could swear the SUV headlights were on high beam, which was mildly irritating. It was accelerating away from the curb, gaining speed fast.

Too fast
, she thought, with sudden, oddly detached awareness. The engine had a deep-throated roar. Emily stopped and turned to look. Without conscious thought, Meg started to run.

The SUV suddenly swerved toward Emily, who froze in place. Meg reached her just as the huge vehicle jumped the curb. Blinded by the headlights, she grabbed her daughter, propelling her ahead, then shoving her as the lights became all she could see.

I won't make it.

The hard metal lifted her in the air and sent her flying.

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

J
ACK
STOOD
BESIDE
the medical examiner, watching as morgue workers wheeled the remains of Philip Yarnell, zipped in a body bag, down the concrete walkway leading from the house to the street. Unfortunately, they would then have to return for Philip's wife, Denise, also deceased. The scene had suggested a murder-suicide, but Jack made a practice of remaining skeptical. He'd keep asking questions until he was satisfied he knew what really had happened. Fortunately, the scene wasn't an outdoor one, or he'd have had to set up lights with night falling. Yeah, and the temperature, too. Tonight was going to be a cold one. Wasn't March supposed to go out like a lamb? The lion still had claws dug in.

John Troyer had left to notify the couple's adult son, who lived in town and managed one of his father's car dealerships. Jack planned to knock on some neighbors' doors himself while crime scene investigators were doing their thing.

His phone buzzed against his hip. Surprised by the caller, he excused himself to the ME and walked a few feet away, the grass crunching with frost.

“Emily?”

“Detective?” She hiccuped. “Jack? Mom's hurt and she isn't even conscious and I'm scared! Can you come?
Please?
”

Slammed by fear, he tried to keep his voice level. “Have you called nine-one-one?”

“Yes! They're taking her to the hospital. They said I could ride along.”

“I'll meet you there.”

He signaled a uniformed officer, and they met on the sidewalk.

“I need you to take over for me here until Detective Troyer gets back. The woman I'm seeing was in an accident and is unconscious and being transported to the hospital. I've got to go.”

Face creased with worry, Officer Sanchez only nodded.

“The ME's estimate of time of death for the Yarnells is two to three hours ago. Start a canvass of neighbors and then stay until CSU is done in there. After that, seal the place up. No one except Troyer in or out.”

“Got it. I hope your friend is okay.”

“You and me both.” Jack paused only for a brief word with the ME, then loped for his SUV.

It wasn't fully justified, but he used his lights anyway, clearing the road ahead. A white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he tried to imagine how she'd been hurt. A car accident after she picked Emily up at school? But speed limits in town ranged from twenty-five to a high of thirty-five. Accidents were rarely more than fender benders.

But, hell, in a head-on, the old Volkswagen, with the engine block in back, offered zero protection for driver and the passenger in the front seat.

He covered the distance in under five minutes, so he was parked in a slot saved for law enforcement officers and striding toward the emergency entrance when he saw and heard the approaching ambulance. A marked police cruiser followed right behind it.

Once the ambulance backed in, Jack circled it and showed his badge. When the EMT swung open the doors, he saw Emily first, her expression distraught. Heart clenching, he swung her down, then held her close while looking over her head into the ambulance.

Emily began to sob. He found himself rocking her slightly, as if she were a young child in need of comfort. Christ,
he
was in need of comfort. He couldn't take his eyes off the gurney inside the ambulance, or the EMT bent over the patient whose face he couldn't see. It was all he could do not to jump in and crouch at Meg's side.

“We need to move out of the way,” he murmured and shifted Emily. The second EMT nodded his thanks.

Within seconds, the two lowered the gurney. He couldn't help making the unpleasant comparison with the one he'd just seen, hauling a corpse.

A blanket was tucked around Meg and a pole held fluids. Jack got one glimpse of her face, bloody and bruised and vacant.
Damn.
She looked dead.

Stomach-churning scared, he led Emily into the ER. A uniformed officer stopped him before they could follow the gurney through swinging double doors into the treatment area.

“Sir?” Then a surprised, “Detective Moore?”

He turned, nodding when he recognized Don Knapstad, an officer who'd been on the job for easily ten years, accompanied by a skinny rookie whose name he couldn't recall.

“Is this incident connected to one of your investigations?” Knapstad asked.

“I don't know.” Jack had to clear his throat. “Nobody has told me yet what happened.”

“The victim's daughter—” Knapstad's eyes rested on Emily briefly “—says she had gotten off the school bus and was walking the block and a half home when a black SUV came out of nowhere, jumped the curb and drove directly at her. Her mother had been walking to meet her. She was able to push Miss Harper out of the way, but was hit herself.”

Emily still clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder, and it was all Jack could do to unclench his teeth. “And the driver?”

“The vehicle did not stop. One headlight was broken in the collision.” The pieces of shattered glass would help them determine the make and model of the vehicle that had hit Meg, but that would take days to weeks. “We've put out a BOLO, but ten to fifteen minutes had passed.”

Reality was that, given the size of Frenchman Lake, the son of a bitch who'd hit Meg had had plenty of time to make it home to his garage or ditch the vehicle if it had been stolen—which was Jack's bet.

But what hit him hardest was the knowledge that, during those same ten or fifteen minutes it took the first unit to respond, Meg had lain there, unconscious, broken, untended, on the sidewalk or someone's front lawn. The image would have had him staggering if he hadn't been holding up Emily.

“No word?”

Knapstad shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

The mousetrap on his mind, Jack said, “If this was an attempt on Emily's life—and it sounds like it might have been—it may very well have to do with my search for her missing friend, Sabra Lee.” He saw that both officers had heard about the investigation.

“Makes sense Miss Harper called you.”

“That's not the only reason. I'm...involved with her mother. I'd planned to have dinner with them tonight, except I got called out.”

Knapstad's nod said he'd heard on the radio about the likely murder-suicide, too.

“I need to find out how she is,” Jack said tautly. Emily made a small, frightened sound.

“I understand. Ah...shall we stay on this?”

“Yes, for now. Keep me updated.” He gentled his voice. “Emily? I'm going to see if they'll let us go back where your mom is.”

A swollen, splotchy face lifted to his, and Emily nodded.

They approached the front desk, his arm encircling her. The receptionist talked quietly into her phone, and a minute later a nurse appeared through the swinging doors.

“Are you family?”

Emily nodded. “She's my mom. And...and Jack's her—”

“Fiancé,” he put in, ignoring Emily's startled look.

As they followed the nurse, he murmured, “They might not have let me in if I hadn't said that.”

“Oh. Even when you're a detective?”

He squeezed her shoulder. “That might have been enough. I didn't want to take a chance.”

Outside a cubicle where several people surrounded a bed, the nurse stopped. “I'll have to ask you to wait out here for a minute. I'll let the doctor know you're here.”

A lump in his throat, Jack nodded.

Inside the sliding door, a curtain was half-drawn, limiting what they could see. Activity wasn't frantic, and the fact that they'd been permitted back here at all was a good sign, or so he tried to tell himself.

That didn't keep Jack from being so scared it was all he could do not to bull his way in. He hadn't known Meg that long. They'd made love once. He shouldn't have lied last night. Whatever they had was a lot more than a beginning. They were way past that. What he felt for her was powerful. If he lost her this way—

His face contorted, and he turned his head so Emily wouldn't see. All he could think was,
No
. It couldn't happen.

“I'm scared,” Emily whispered, wrenching Jack back from his own agony.

“I know,” he said gruffly. “Me, too. But she'll be okay. Your mom is a tough lady. No way would she leave you.”

Emily's whole body trembled. “It was this great big SUV. When...when it hit her, Mom went flying, like, ten or fifteen feet. And when she hit the ground, she just flopped.” She shuddered.

Meg had likely already been unconscious. And, shit, he thought; that was exactly how the carjacker's girlfriend had described the victim as she was thrown out of the car.

He gritted his teeth. “What did she land on?”

“Um...grass. It was Mr. Jones's yard. He's usually kind of an old grump, but he must have heard me screaming and he came running out. He got blankets to keep Mom warm, and he called the police. He was really nice.”

“People usually are when it counts.” Jack squeezed the back of his neck. “You should have told me about the mousetrap.”

Emily's eyes welled with tears. “I never thought—”

Jack stiffened when a brawny male nurse stepped out of the room. “Doctor says you can go in now.” He sounded friendly. “Are you Emily? Your mom wants to see you.”

“She's regained consciousness?” Jack didn't recognize his own voice.

“Yes, not long after she arrived.”

Emily flew into the room. His own eyes stinging, Jack nodded at the nurse. “Thank you.”

When he stepped into the cubicle, all he saw was Meg. She could get only one eye entirely open. The other side of her face was swollen, discolored and scraped. At least she wasn't bloody anymore. Emily had rushed to her side, then stopped, stiff. “Mom?”

“That bad?” Meg said, almost lightly. “Here, I can hug you on this side.”

The hug was careful, and Emily stepped back right away, her appalled gaze staying on her mom.

Meg's gaze fastened on him. “Jack?”

“Yeah.” He took his turn stepping forward, but was on the opposite side of the bed from Emily. He scanned her quickly, knowing she had to have suffered other injuries. “Had to be a heroine, did you?”

She tried to smile and winced. “I didn't, um, think it out.”

No, that wasn't the way it worked. He knew. It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. She wouldn't have hesitated to die for her daughter, if that's what it came to.

“Did they catch...?” she whispered.

“Not yet.” He made himself turn to look at the middle-aged woman garbed in blue scrubs and a stethoscope who'd been patiently waiting. “How is she?”

The woman smiled and held out her hand. “I'm Dr. Frenzel. I'm told you're the fiancé?”

Careful not to look at Meg, he shook the doctor's hand. “That's right,” he said easily. “I'm Detective Jack Moore. I also have a bad feeling this incident has to do with an investigation of mine.”

The doctor's eyebrows rose. “I'm told it was a hit-and-run.”

“Yes, and it appears the intended victim was Emily, not her mother.”

“I see. Well, fortunately it appears Ms. Harper took only a glancing blow. We'll know more once she has a CAT scan. I can tell you now that, because of her head injury, we'll definitely be admitting her for the night.”

“But what about Emily?” Meg protested.

“I can call Cara or somebody if you don't want me staying alone,” Emily said.

“Not a chance.” There was no give in Jack's voice. “I'll stay at the house.”

“Thank you,” Meg whispered.

Behind him, the curtain rattled. The man who appeared smiled. “I hear somebody needs a CAT scan.”

A moment later, he wheeled Meg out. Jack turned to the doctor.

“Does she have broken bones?” he asked bluntly. If there'd been internal bleeding...
God.
A medical team would have been working frantically over her. He and Emily wouldn't have been allowed in.

“I can't yet rule that out but don't believe so,” the doctor said, voice kind. “She took most of the impact on her hip—” Seeing his expression, she elaborated, “She thinks she jumped, hoping to slide over the hood. It partially worked. I don't know how fast the vehicle was traveling, but if she'd been hit straight on—”

Emily whimpered. The doctor didn't have to finish. Instead, she smiled at Emily. “You did everything you could, getting help for her as quickly as possible. You knew enough not to try to move her. She's going to have some really colorful bruises, some major aches and pains and a whopping headache for a few days, but she'll be fine.”

Emily's head bobbed. “Thank you.”

“Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see you once we know more.” The doctor nodded and left them alone.

Emily immediately ducked her head. Ignoring the chairs, Jack leaned a hip against the short counter that held a sink and watched her stare at her feet. He had no trouble recognizing guilt. But she'd been scared enough, he didn't think he would have to push.

Finally she lifted her head, misery in her brown eyes. “There's other stuff I didn't tell you.”

* * *

H
E
WAS
NICER
than she deserved.

This had been the absolutely worst day of Emily's life. Even more awful than when Sabra disappeared. Somebody had tried to hurt her or even kill her, and had come really close to killing Mom. If Mom had died because of
her
—because
she'd
been stubborn—Emily couldn't even imagine. Mostly she'd been scared for Mom, but during the ambulance ride she'd been selfish enough to worry about what would happen to her if her mother died.

Arms crossed, his posture relaxed, Jack never looked away from her face while she told him about how she'd covered for Sabra.