Running for Her Life (10 page)

He hadn’t been as intrigued by a woman since…since never. It was just one more thing he hadn’t expected to experience in Wyattville. And really rotten timing. What did he have to offer? About as far as he could see into the future was next week.

He’d spoken to Chase this morning. His friend had apologized and said he’d likely be out of town longer than he’d expected. His mother was refusing to do her physical therapy and barely eating. He didn’t want to leave her just yet.

Jake had assured him that he was doing fine. Chase had said that he’d spoken to Chief Wilks and the man was recovering. Then he dropped the bombshell that Chief Wilks, who had turned sixty-two the previous year, was talking about retiring. Jake had quickly reminded his good friend that he’d agreed to do this only temporarily, and Chase had confirmed that he understood.

Jake pulled the squad car into his designated parking spot at the municipal building and got out. Frank Johnson and his wife, Ginny, who watched Lori Mae’s boys when she was working, were standing next to their car. They’d parked around the side of the building. Riley and Keller stood next to them. Riley held a cake box and Keller had his fist around a wad of balloons. Jake figured it was just seconds before the cake hit the ground and the balloons went airborne.

It was Lori Mae’s thirty-fourth birthday and her family intended to surprise her. They’d asked for his help. Lori Mae didn’t normally work weekends and he’d had to invent an excuse to get her to come in on a Saturday. He’d told her that he needed help with the stranger-awareness program—had figured that would resonate with her. It had, and when he’d checked in with her just an hour ago, she’d been cruising the internet, identifying resources.

He saw Andy’s squad coming down the street and they waited for him to get parked. Then the group went in, the twins leading the way.

An hour later, he and Lori Mae were the only ones in the station. Cake had been eaten and cleaned up, balloons gushed over, and Frank and Ginny had taken the twins home to wreak havoc on the neighbors. Andy had gone home to catch a nap before his shift started.

Lori Mae had cried. And hugged her boys, her parents, and even Andy and him. Now she was eyeing him. “Pretty tricky,” she said.

He smiled. “I thought you might figure it out when you had to work on Saturday.”

“No. That sometimes happened when Chief Wilks was here, too. I do think I surprised Alice Fenton though. She wasn’t expecting to see me. What did she want?”

“She invited me to dinner.”

“I figured as much. We don’t have all that many eligible bachelors.”

“I think she’s married,” he said.

“But her daughter’s not. She was. Got divorced about a year ago and moved home. Watch out for that one. My husband and I went to school with Madeline. Even though she was a year younger than us, she always sort of scared me. There was something about the look in her eyes. Heck, she scared my husband, who later became a marine with no problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are just rumors of course, but she supposedly trashed a neighbor’s house after they didn’t pay her what she thought she deserved for watching their kids. Busted everything up inside and spray-painted the siding. She even let the livestock out of their pens. There were cows all over the county. Police couldn’t prove it though because her parents swore that she’d been home the whole night, said they were playing board games. Trust me on this. Even at fifteen, Madeline Fenton wasn’t the type to play board games with her parents on a Friday night.”

“Well, she’s having dinner with her parents on a Saturday night. Mrs. Fenton said that her daughter and Tara Thompson were going to join us.”

Lori Mae laughed. “Interesting. I could say something terribly inappropriate about threesomes to my new boss but I suspect Alice just doesn’t want to be too obvious. For the last year or so, Madeline’s been hot and heavy with Jim Waller, a vice president at the bank. In fact, she started working at the bank shortly after they started dating. I have a few friends who work there. They used to say she spent more time in Jim’s office with the door closed than she did at her desk, working. Recently they told me they were pretty sure it had fizzled out. Must be true.”

* * *

A
T
4:00
P.M
., T
ARA WAS ON HER BACK
underneath the dish machine, swearing like the sailor she’d never been.

The restaurant had been closed for an hour. The company from Minneapolis that she’d hired to replace the window had arrived on schedule, and it had taken them less than fifteen minutes to put the new glass in. She’d been happy to have the ugly plywood removed. Food had been put away and the dining room cleaned, swept and made ready for the next week. But there were still dirty dishes. Everywhere.

They’d managed to keep up for most of the day. However, at one point, toward the end of the lunch hour, a woman, oblivious of the dish crisis, had ordered soup. Tara had smiled, said of course and thought,
Cup your hands, honey, because that’s all I got left to put it in.

Janet had volunteered to tackle the pans and was up to her elbows in suds at the three-compartment sink. Tara had figured she could whip through the other dishes in less than an hour. She hadn’t counted on a leaky pipe and a wet floor.

Normally, the commercial dishwasher that Nel had thankfully invested in just two years before Tara had purchased the restaurant ran perfectly. Dishes were loaded into big trays, the trays were gently shoved into the stainless steel wash area, where they were washed and rinsed with very hot water. Each cycle took about ninety seconds.

But today, for some unknown reason, the kitchen gods were messing with her. Every time she washed a load, more water leaked onto the floor and she realized she was going to have a swamp if she didn’t get the problem fixed. That’s what led her to be on her back, halfway underneath the beast, a flashlight in one hand and a wrench in the other. She had just located the leak and was starting to twist a gasket when she realized that she was no longer alone.

She could see blue jeans. A man’s shoes.

She jerked in surprise and hit her forehead on the bottom of the dishwasher.

“Hey, be careful,” he said.

Jake Vernelli.

Tara laid her head on the wet floor and closed her eyes. When her heart rate felt something like normal, she resolutely finished tightening the gasket and then awkwardly eased herself out from underneath the machine.

She was flat on her back, looking up at six feet of muscle. He wore casual clothes, dark jeans and a lightweight summer shirt. He was imposing in a uniform but now he looked comfortable, confident, sexy.

“How’s the head?” he asked, extending a hand.

She hesitated and then grabbed his hand. His skin was warm and there were calluses on his palm. With one gentle pull, he helped her get from horizontal back to vertical. “Okay?” he asked.

Not really. She felt light-headed, and it had nothing to do with the bump on her head. Every day she cleared customers’ plates and made change for them when they paid their bills. Occasionally, her hand would brush up against another’s. But never had it made her weak in the knees. What the hell was wrong with her?

He inclined his head toward the dish machine. “So how’s it doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not so good.” She wiped her hands on her skirt, which was now pretty filthy. “What can I do for you?”

“I understand we’re both having dinner with Henry and Alice Fenton. I’d be happy to give you a ride—then you could show me the way.”

Janet had stopped washing dishes and was now listening intently. It would seem odd to refuse. Un-neighborly. And in Wyattville, that just wasn’t done.

It wasn’t as if it was going to be a date. “Did Alice happen to mention that her daughter was also going to be having dinner with us?”

“She did. Is she younger than Bill?”

“Same age. Twins.”

She was not going to tell him about Alice’s plans to matchmake. She wouldn’t betray her friend in that way—and quite frankly, he was probably used to it. Surely well-meaning friends had been pairing him off with potentials for some time. He was employed, polite and had a killer smile to boot.

He was a catch.

That is, for somebody who had their pole in the water. She did not even like the taste of fish and wasn’t even sure she remembered how to bait a hook.

Jake scratched his head. “My parents love me but I’m not sure they’d be crazy about me moving back home. It’s got to be hard for the Fentons.”

“I’m not sure. They don’t say much about it.” She looked at her watch, then down at her dirty clothes. She still had to meet with Donny. “I probably won’t be finished much before dinnertime. I keep an extra set of clothes here, so that’s not a problem. Do you want to pick me up a little before seven?”

“What about your van?”

“It’ll be fine parked out back.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He left, tossing Janet one of those great smiles on his way out.

* * *

F
IFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE SEVEN
, Jake pulled into the lot behind Nel’s. Tara had been watching for him. She pulled the door closed behind her and turned her key in the bolt lock.

She’d cleaned up and changed into a long cotton skirt and a peasant-style blouse, which had flowing sleeves that covered her scars.

She opened the door and slid into the front seat of his car. It was the first time she’d ever been in a Wyattville squad car but certainly not the first time she’d been in a police vehicle. She’d done a ride-along with a couple of different cops when she’d been a reporter.

Jake’s vehicle smelled better than the ones in D.C. It smelled like him—sandalwood with a hint of something darker, like amber. There was a metal gate that separated the front seat from the back and a sleek computer screen perched on the dash, both good reminders of how police work was both physical and intellectual.

“How ya doing?” he asked politely, as he pulled out of the lot and headed south.

“Fine,” she lied. She was both tired and frustrated. She’d managed to get the leak fixed but Donny had been a no-show. The heat, the extra work, it was all getting to be overwhelming. And it hadn’t helped that the phone had rung four times while she’d been plowing her way through the mound of dishes and each time the caller had hung up. It was the sour icing on a really bad cupcake.

She was in a funk. And she was going to have to work really hard to make sure that her bad mood wasn’t contagious. She didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s evening. “It shouldn’t be a late night,” she said. She tried to put some warmth in her tone. “You know, early to bed, early to rise.”

“At least tomorrow isn’t a work day for either of us. Nel’s is closed on Sunday, right?”

“Yes. You have the day off, too, right?”

“Yes. Chase or Chief Wilks or whoever did it was smart to get an agreement with the county police that they’ll provide coverage on Sunday as well as dispatch during the evenings and nights. It allows a small department to keep labor expenses somewhat under control. By the way, I forgot to mention that your window looks good.”

“Yes. It’s nice to have the place looking like it should.”

They were quiet the rest of the way, Tara only speaking to give Jake the necessary directions. They pulled into the Fentons’ long lane and came to rest in front of the handsome two-story farmhouse.

When she opened her car door, Tara could smell the pot roast. It would be delicious. There was no doubt about that.

Henry met them on the front porch. “About time you got here,” he muttered, looking at Tara. “Alice wanted to send out a search party. Didn’t want your roast beef to get too done. Woman never worries about
my
roast beef.”

Tara wrinkled her nose at her landlord. “Shush now,” she said. “Henry, this is Jake Vernelli. Jake, my landlord, Henry Fenton, who is not normally so cranky.”

Henry grinned broadly, showing his yellowed, crooked teeth. “I haven’t forgotten your loose tile. I’ll get over soon.”

“I’m not worried,” Tara said. She turned to Jake. “The Fentons are the best landlords in Minnesota.”

Jake stuck his hand out. “Pleasure, sir. Thanks for the dinner invitation.”

Alice, dusting her hands on her worn apron, came out to the porch. “What are you all doing out here talking? My gravy is getting thicker by the minute.”

“And you thought I was cranky?” Henry teased, his arm around Tara’s shoulder.

Alice ignored him and ushered them toward the dining room. “We’re certainly grateful that you were available to fill in for our chief. I hope you’re getting settled, Jake.”

Madeline, wearing very tight white pants and a low-cut green shirt that emphasized her green eyes, stood next to the table. She had a pitcher of water in her hand and was filling glasses.

Alice made a sweeping gesture, as if she were showing off a new car. “Jake, this is my daughter, Madeline. She works at the bank. Head teller. Madeline, Jake Vernelli, our new police chief.”

“Just interim,” Jake corrected. He extended his arm to shake Madeline’s hand.

“I understand you’re from Minneapolis,” Madeline said. “You must be dying of boredom here. We’re going to have to find some fun for you.” Her voice was low, almost raspy. She looked at Tara. “Hello,” she said.

“Hi, Madeline. How’s it going?” Tara asked, trying to be nice.

Madeline looked at Jake. “Better now.”

Tara snuck a look at Alice and Henry to see if they were embarrassed by their daughter’s actions but neither seemed to notice. She figured it had been going on for so long that they were immune. Or perhaps just hopeful that something, or someone, would get her out of their house.

“Please, sit down,” Alice said. She motioned for Tara to take the chair opposite of Jake. Madeline slid onto the chair next to him.

Jake accepted the platter of roast beef that Alice passed his way. He took a slice and passed it to Madeline. When she accepted the dish, her fingers caressed Jake’s strong hands. He didn’t react.

Oh, good grief,
thought Tara. She looked around the table, desperately trying to focus on something besides Madeline making a fool of herself. Her gaze settled on Henry. His leathery skin was sunburned and his nose was peeling. “Henry, you look as if you’ve spent some time in the sun.”