Run to Me (28 page)

‘How long have they been after you, Shyler?’

She tried to remember. Forever, it seemed. ‘I . . .’

‘Is that why you lied to me about where you lived? Why you gave me a false address?’

Her frown deepened. That at least seemed something she should know. And yet – ‘I’m . . . not sure . . .’

‘But you know what they want. You know what they’re after.’

She darted an anxious look towards the bed.

‘Jesse? Is that it? Why, Shyler? Why do they want him?’

She closed her eyes. When she tried to think of the answers to his questions she felt almost dizzy. As though the reasons were
spinning around her so fast she couldn’t latch on to them. They were images out of focus, garbled words that didn’t make sense.

‘Does Jesse have something they want?’
he persisted.

She swallowed against a wave of nausea. The spinning was getting worse by the second.

‘There must be a reason. He must have seen or heard something that –’

‘Does it matter?’ The words came out louder than she’d intended, but they had the desired effect. The questions stopped. The spinning slowed enough that she could open her eyes again.

Only then did she notice how tightly she
was clutching his hand. How close he had moved. How his arm had come up behind her back, spreading warmth across her shoulders.

She let her gaze lift to his chest. What would it hurt to collapse against him? To feel his strength and protection envelope her? To trust once again in another human being?

He dipped his head. Their breath mingled. ‘Shyler.’ The word a caress on her cheek.
What would
it hurt
. . .

She let go of his hand and pulled away, taking up the cold hard steel of the rifle. She knew all too well who it could hurt.

Beside her she felt him draw away, pack up his things and rise from the chair.

From the bed behind them, lost in shadow, Zack tracked the man as he left the room.

Vanessa slid her hands beneath her armpits. The car was freezing. Mainly because Tragg insisted
on keeping his window open so the windshield wouldn’t mist up. From the top of the rise at a bend in the road they had a clear view of the doctor’s house and had been watching it for the last four hours.

The prolonged surveillance had left her not only shivering with cold but also absolutely ravenous. ‘We should go to the place Nolan and I stayed at. The cabin we rented.’

From the box in his
hand, Tragg shook a Junior Mint into his mouth. ‘Why?’

‘Because if Nolan didn’t check out when he left with Farrell we can still use it. We can get some sleep, start fresh in the morning.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Maybe even grab a cup of coffee.’

‘Not a priority.’

She stifled a sigh. Of course it wasn’t a priority for him, he’d just put away a mixed cold meat sub, a bag of chips and a can of
Coke – extra provisions she hadn’t thought to buy from the last gas station they’d stopped at on the drive up here. Tragg hadn’t offered to share his meal and she hadn’t asked. She knew how much he’d have gotten off on seeing her beg and then refusing her.

She tried a different tack. ‘There’s a chance Nolan might have left me a message there. Maybe something to do with the kids. The poor sap
was probably still expecting me to come back for him.’

Tragg kept staring out at the house. ‘I’m pretty sure he told me everything he knew.’

Vanessa winced, recalling Nolan’s screams. ‘I haven’t eaten since this morning,’ she blurted.

Tragg turned slowly. Meeting her gaze with dark flat eyes, he held out the box. ‘Have a mint.’

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

As she turned away she
realised she was no longer hungry. Even after fifteen hours without food, one look from Tragg could destroy any appetite.

Even when the thermometer slid into his ear, Zack didn’t move. He’d heard the doctor enter the room and murmur a soft ‘good morning’ to Shyler. He’d heard the floorboards creak near his bed, sensed their shadows sliding over him and then a hand brushing his hair aside.

All the while he’d kept very still, eyes closed, breathing steady. He wanted the doctor to think he was asleep, wanted
to hear what he said to Shyler when he thought her little boy wasn’t listening.

The thermometer gently slid from his ear. The doc probably thought he was being real smart, sneaking around, taking his temperature when he wasn’t aware. But Zack knew all right. And he’d go on pretending to be asleep because
he
was doing some sneaking of his own.

‘Still no change – a hundred and two.’ The doctor’s
voice was a whisper above him.

He opened his eyes a crack. The two of them were standing over him, Chase in a navy blue terry-cloth robe. Light from the bedside lamp frosted Shyler’s hair but did little for the shadows beneath her eyes or the worry lines that creased her brow. He
would have liked to comfort her, to tell her not to worry about him. But of course the doctor was doing it for him.

‘It doesn’t mean he’s not getting better. We’ll just have to wait a little while longer before it shows.’

Zack watched them closely. He knew the doctor had a thing for Shyler. He could tell just from the way he looked at her. What he hadn’t worked out yet was whether Shyler knew it or not. And, if she did, how she felt about it.

Back at the office when she’d held the gun on him it had seemed
pretty certain she didn’t like him. But things had changed a bit since then. Now she seemed to be listening to him, trusting him more. And last night when he’d actually touched her . . .

Beneath the blanket he clenched his fists. At the time he hadn’t been able to figure out why he’d become so angry at seeing them like that. But after the doctor had left and his anger slowly died away he’d found
another feeling hiding beneath it. A secret feeling that had made it hard for him to breathe.

Fear.

Not the kind he felt for Tragg. No, this was different. More like the feeling he got from his nightmare. Only ten times worse.

He squinted at the woman standing over him. In the beginning he’d thought, ‘Well, she isn’t much, but she’s all I’ve got.’ Now that too had changed. He didn’t even care
any more whether or not she protected him from Tragg. In three years of being passed from one foster home to another he’d never found anyone as brave and smart and wonderful as her. And he wasn’t going to let some stupid doctor come along and take her away from him!

‘When he wakes up, make sure you get plenty of fluids into him,’ the man was telling her. ‘I’ll bring up some juice and breakfast
before I go.’

Her head snapped towards him. ‘Go? Go where?’

He consulted the clock on the bedside table. ‘I’ve got to be at work in a couple of hours.’

‘You aren’t serious.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll come back at lunch and check on him then.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Her voice had risen above a whisper.

‘You’re not still worried I’ll call the police, are you? I could’ve done that any time last
night.’

‘Call your office and tell them you’re sick.’

‘And if there’s an emergency they’ll come here to find me. Is that what you want?’

Zack opened his eyes a bit further. They weren’t paying any attention to him now.

‘Then tell them you have to leave town for a while.’

He blew out a breath. ‘Shyler, think about it from my perspective. The minute I walk out the door it means my father’s
here alone with you. I’m not going to do anything to endanger him.’

‘Endanger.’ She took a step back. ‘You think I would hurt him?’

‘What I’m saying is, if I called the police and they showed up here –’

‘I might use your father as a hostage, is that it? I would never –’

‘It doesn’t matter if you would or not, that’s how the police would see it. And that, apart from the promise I’ve already
given you, is why you can be sure I’m not going to call them. Because I do not want to create that situation.’

Shyler stood, considering his words. Slowly the tension eased from her stance, her breathing slowed. ‘All right, go. Just so long as you’re back by lunch.’

‘I give you my word.’

The man kept staring as though he wanted to say more. Or, worse, do more. Zack smiled at his disappointment
when Shyler turned away, crossed to the window and resumed her post staring down at the lawn.

His smile broadened when the doctor sighed and walked from the room.

Two hours later, showered and dressed for work, Chase carried a breakfast tray up to the guest room and stopped in the doorway.

Shyler sat slumped in the window seat, rifle resting across her lap. Dozing at last. She certainly needed it. From what he’d seen she hadn’t closed her eyes all night. Jesse, on the other hand, was now wide awake. Chase crossed the room and set the tray on
the bedside table.

‘Morning,’ he whispered, pulling up the chair. ‘How are you feeling?’

Jesse glared up at him, his expression more hate-filled than distrusting. The intensity of it set him back. What had he done to alienate the boy?

‘You’re looking better, not as flushed. I wouldn’t be surprised if your temperature’s down.’ He held up the thermometer. ‘Should we check and see?’

Jesse yanked
the blankets over his head and rolled away to face the wall.

‘I don’t seem to be very popular this morning.’ He set the thermometer back on the table. ‘Well, your breakfast is here
when you get hungry. Toast, fruit, cereal, juice, some donuts for later and coffee for your mom. You won’t forget to take your pill, will you?’

He waited for an answer but the boy didn’t stir.

‘Well, I’ll head off
then. I’ll be back to check on you both around lunch time.’

‘She doesn’t like you.’

Halfway out of his chair, Chase stopped. ‘Who? Your mom?’ He sat down again. So that’s what this was all about. ‘How can you tell?’

‘Same way I can tell you like her.’

He nodded to himself. Fear of abandonment. Hardly unknown among children of divorced parents. ‘It scares you that I like her, does it?’

Jesse
rolled over. ‘Why should it? If she doesn’t like you I got nothing to worry about.’

‘And if she did?’

The boy’s eyes narrowed.

‘You’d still have nothing to worry about. Liking one person doesn’t mean you can’t like another. Anyway I’m not out to take your mother away from you.’ He gave a huff. ‘I pity any man who ever tried.’

If anything the boy appeared even more troubled.

‘Was that what
happened at your cabin? Did those men try to take you away from your mom?’

He chewed his lip.

‘Jesse, I have to be honest with you. I’ll do everything I can to help you and your mom – I’ll hide you, feed you, treat your injuries, I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go. But I think you can see there’s not much I can do against men with guns. If someone’s still after you, and you know who they
are, wouldn’t it be best to . . .’

Once again he found himself staring at the back of Jesse’s head. On impulse he reached out and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘We’ll talk more about it later if you want. In the meantime try not to worry.’ He got up, slid the chair aside and started for the door.

Seeing Shyler slumped in the draughty window seat he paused long enough to grab the throw
off the end of the bed and drape it over her.

Further up the hall he ducked into his study to pick up the magazines he’d bought for the waiting room. He’d just reached his desk when the phone rang. Fearing the sound would waken Shyler, he snatched it up before the first ring had died.

‘Chase Hadley here,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Doctor Hadley, this is Greg Linnell. You left a message on my
service to call you.’

Chase blinked a moment then remembered the name. With all that had happened he’d forgotten the call he’d placed to Shyler’s ex after speaking with her mother.

‘Mr Linnell, yes. Thank you so much for calling back.’ Chase sat down. More than ever he needed to speak to this man.

Shyler jolted awake in the window seat. She didn’t know what had awakened her but was grateful
something had. She couldn’t keep dozing off like this. She had to stay alert.

Throwing off the blanket that was draped around her – had Chase put it there? – she slid from the seat and looked towards the bed.

Jesse appeared to still be asleep. On the night stand beside him sat a tray of untouched food, steam still rising from a mug of coffee. Chase must have been here only moments ago. Was he
still nearby? Had he left for work yet?

Her gaze shifted back to the steaming mug. Coffee. Just what she needed. On legs trembling from stress and fatigue she started towards it only to stop after two steps, her attention drawn by the murmur of voices. One voice anyway, coming from somewhere just up the hall. It sounded like Chase.

A chill spread through her as that thought soaked in. His father
was in a wheelchair and couldn’t come upstairs. So who was he talking to? Was someone else here?

Taking up the rifle she went to find out.

‘Your message said it was a matter of some importance.’

‘Yes, that’s right. I hope I didn’t alarm you. You see . . .’ Chase hesitated. In the seconds since hearing Greg Linnell’s voice a thought had occurred to him. If he divulged what had happened at Shyler’s
cabin, her ex might call the police himself. What’s more, there was even the remote possibility
he
was the man Shyler and Jesse were fleeing from.

‘Doctor Hadley?’

‘Yes, still here.’

‘So what is this about?’

Chase cleared his throat. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to simply ask what he’d wanted to know when he’d first called this man. ‘Mr Linnell, I contacted you because I was hoping you could
give me some information about your ex-wife. I’m Shyler’s doctor.’

A second’s pause. ‘Shyler. Good God.’

Hearing what sounded like stunned concern, Chase spoke quickly to reassure him. ‘Oh no, don’t worry, nobody’s hurt. She and Jesse are perfectly fine.’

The silence this time was deep and incredulous. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

‘A joke? Why would –’