She Can Hide (She Can Series) (2 page)

Nearly six feet tall in her socks, Ronnie straightened to take advantage of her height. “Doc is here to assess all the animals. We have a search warrant, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith pinched the filter of his cigarette to his lips and sucked in a furious drag.

Ethan tensed. Ronnie could handle herself. She’d been able to beat the snot out of him until he was twelve, but Smith was ignorant and angry, an unpredictable combination. Unpredictable equaled dangerous, and Ethan didn’t like Ronnie on the receiving end of the guy’s ire.

Ethan stepped up. “Let the vet do his thing.”

“These animals are my property.” Smith flicked ashes and avoided Ethan’s gaze. The guy was hiding something.

“If you care about these animals, you should be glad the vet is here,” Ethan said, mostly to keep the guy’s attention off Ronnie. His cousin ducked out into the sleet.

Smith clamped his lips around his cigarette tight enough to crimp it.

“Oh no.” From outside, Ronnie’s voice echoed with sadness.

Smith crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes shut down. Ronnie had just found whatever he’d been hiding.

Ethan kept his eyes on the man’s hands as he called out to his cousin, “What is it?”

Ronnie came back in. She stomped across the muddy ground to face Smith. “There’s a dead horse in the back of the yard. It’s hidden behind some underbrush. When did the horse die, Mr. Smith?”

So much for keeping Smith’s attention on Ethan.

“Yesterday.” Smith’s teeth ground back and forth.

Ronnie pressed. “Had it been sick?”

“No.” The lie shone in Smith’s eyes. “Just keeled over. It was old.”

The last straw snapped in his cousin’s eyes. Ronnie stepped forward. “Mr. Smith, we are taking all of these horses right now.”

Radiating anger, Smith bristled and leaned closer to Ronnie. “These animals are my property. You ain’t got the right to steal them from me.”

Ronnie held her ground. “Mr. Smith, these animals are in immediate physical danger. They are starving. They have no water or proper shelter. The weather is bad and getting worse. One has already died from lack of care. All of these horses are going with us today.”

Still keeping watch on Smith’s hands, Ethan moved closer.

Smith’s gaze, mean and flat, flickered to Ethan. The old man backed off. “This ain’t over.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ronnie wrote something on her clipboard. “We’ll be seeing you in court, Mr. Smith.”

Tramping toward his house, Smith’s hand moved toward his pocket. Ethan tensed, his palm on the gun at his hip. Smith yanked a cell phone from his jeans. Ethan lowered his hand.

Ronnie turned to one of her assistants. “We didn’t plan on this many horses. We’ll need another trailer.”

The college-age kid nodded. “I’m on it.”

“Shit.” Ronnie rubbed the crease between her brows. “The county shelter is two stalls short. We had another large rescue last week. What shape is your barn in?”

Ethan hesitated. He didn’t have the time or money for a couple of horses. Paying his brothers’ tuition and keeping his mom in her house commandeered all of his take-home pay. He looked back to the first shelter. The roan pony stuck its nose over the door and bleated out a thin whinny. “It’s solid. How long would you need me to keep them?”

“Soon as the weather clears and they’re stabilized, I can move them to foster farms.” Ronnie lowered her voice. “I know your budget’s tight. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of the cost.”

Ethan’s gaze swept over visible rib cages, filthy coats, and defeated eyes. What else could he do? “OK. My brothers are still home for winter break. I’ll call and get them to prepare a couple of stalls. We haven’t had a horse in years.”

“Thanks.” His cousin whipped out her cell and punched numbers. “I don’t want to have to transport them a distance in this weather and in their current condition if I don’t have to. Plus, they’ll need to be thoroughly vetted and dewormed before they can be with other horses. Your place is empty. It’s perfect.”

“Not a problem.” Ethan made the call, then spent the next ninety minutes helping Ronnie’s team gather evidence and load the animals. The nervous bay alone took twenty minutes to get on the trailer. By the time Ethan changed back into his shoes and settled back in his cruiser, his uniform pants were soaked through, and his feet were ice blocks ready to snap off at the toes. Thankfully, his shift was nearly over.

He cranked the heat on full, pulled off his gloves, and held his red hands to the vents. His skin burned as the air flow warmed. The horse trailers made a right out of the driveway. Ethan turned left toward the police station. As idiotic as his younger brothers could be, he could count on them when it mattered. They’d settle the horses if Ethan wasn’t home first.

At four in the afternoon, daylight was dimming fast, solid cloud cover bringing an early twilight. Early January days were short. Snowflakes mixed with the sleet. Ethan switched the heat to defrost as the wipers iced up. Twenty feet to his right, Packman Creek flowed parallel to the road. What the…? He slowed the cruiser. Muddy tire tracks cut through the roadside grass and led down the embankment.

Ethan stopped his vehicle on the shoulder and got out. He looked over the side. The rear end of a car protruded from the water. The edges of the creek were iced over. But in the center, water flowed white over boulders. Ethan raced back to his vehicle and called for an ambulance and rescue backup. He jumped out and ran to the riverbank. Was anyone inside?

The creek fed into the north branch of the Susquehanna River. In some spots, the stream was barely more than a trickle. Unfortunately, this section was deep and wide, more of a river than a creek despite its name.

Movement next to the submerged car jolted him into action. A head broke the surface and flailed for the car bumper. A woman. Ethan shed his coat and belt on the bank and waded in. The cold hit his skin like a slap.

Her head disappeared under the water.

“No!” Ethan plunged forward. The frigid water enveloped his legs in shocking pain. She popped up again. Up to his thighs in the creek, Ethan’s muscles protested. His breaths quickened as the alarming temperature threatened to shut down his body. Seconds. He had seconds to save her.

He trudged. Water lapped over his hips and froze his balls. Teeth chattering, he reached for her, but she sank again. His feet slipped. The current swept his legs from under him. Water closed over his head, and the icy plunge cut off his next breath. His heart stuttered as he surfaced.

The creek bottom had dropped off. Ethan was forced to breaststroke the remaining few feet toward the woman, his body armor making the movement awkward. Training and running in a bulletproof vest was one thing. Swimming in it was quite another. But he had to get her on the next try. His body was slowing down. She’d been in the frigid water longer.

Shit. They were probably both going to die.

Ethan grabbed the car’s bumper to prevent the current from dragging him away. Thankfully, the vehicle had stopped sinking, the front end likely hitting bottom. He grabbed for the woman, but she went under. Ethan stuck his hand into the river where she disappeared.

His fingers brushed her face. He reached farther. His fingers closed around fabric, and he pulled her above the surface by her collar. He tightened his grip, wrapping his frozen fingers tightly in her shirt. He was not losing his hold on her.

“Is there anyone else in the car?” he shouted.

“No,” she gasped. Her eyes opened wide, bottomless pools of deep brown against skin as pale and fragile-looking as an eggshell. Her sopping hair molded to her head and emphasized her striking beauty and delicate bone structure. Blood trickled down her temple. She tried to swim, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Ethan hauled her through the water toward the shore. Fifteen feet seemed like a mile.

He stumbled into the shallow water. Thin sheets of ice snapped under his feet as he hauled her onto the snow-covered reeds that lined the river. His legs gave out on the frozen bank. Ice crackled as he fell to his knees. She lay beside him, still and limp as a corpse.

He tried to speak, but his lips didn’t cooperate. A few words came out as a jumble of stuttering gibberish. He glanced up at the car. His cruiser was warm, but he’d have to get her up the steep riverbank to get to it.

The air was as cold as the water. The woman’s body temperature was still falling.
Running on sheer willpower, he scooped her off the ground, carried her to the road, and stuffed her into the backseat of his car. He climbed into the front and started the engine. Warm air blasted from the vents.

Back out in the cold, Ethan grabbed a blanket from his trunk, then returned to the backseat. He pressed his fingers to her neck, but his skin was too numb to feel her pulse. How long had she been in the water?

Was she breathing?

He pressed his ear to her chest.

CHAPTER TWO

Abby coughed and sputtered. Hands rolled her onto her side. Water poured from her nose and mouth, burning her sinuses and throat. A violent quake rattled her bones.

She’d never been so cold. She felt like she’d slept in a snowbank.

“Thank God,” a deep male voice said.

She opened her eyes. Brilliant blue eyes focused on her with laser intensity. She squeezed her lids shut for a second. When she opened them, the rest of his lean features sharpened. Rivulets of water ran from his short black hair down his face. His teeth rattled behind blue-tinted lips, and his body shivered in a drenched police uniform.

“I’m Officer Ethan Hale.” His broad shoulders hunched over her. One hip perched on the edge of the large backseat of his police car, the cramped space creating a few square inches of body contact. Ignoring his own shakes, he spread a blanket over her and tucked it around her torso. “What’s your name?”

She could hear the whoosh of the car heater on full, but the blowing air wasn’t enough to penetrate multiple layers of wet cloth. She harnessed her strength to control her shuddering jaw and spit out a few stuttered words. “Th-thank you. I’m Abby Foster.”

Thank you seemed inadequate, but what else could she say to a man who’d waded into a frozen river to save her?

“Can you tell me what happened? Did you slide off the road?”

It seemed like a reasonable assumption to her, but her molars were clacking too hard for her to answer. A vision of water rising to the roof of her car filled her head. Nausea and creek water churned in her belly as she revisited her panic. Her breaths quickened.

“Easy.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “It’s OK. You’re safe.”

Gratitude, suspicion, and a thousand other conflicting emotions crowded Abby’s throat. His soaking wet uniform was a reminder he was a cop. Yes, he’d risked his life to save her, but she’d learned the hard way that the police could never be fully trusted. Most people couldn’t be trusted.

Scratch that. She’d moved to Westbury specifically to leave everything about her past behind. Horrible memories invaded her former home every night when darkness fell. She’d tired of the pitying glances from everyone who knew her story, or thought they knew what had happened to her. The whole story never went public. Most people yearned for excitement, but all Abby wanted was a quiet, normal life.

A complete transformation was necessary to achieve her goal, inside as well as out. Changing her address wasn’t enough. Her suspicious attitude didn’t apply to her new life either. Ordinary law-abiding citizens trusted the police, and Abby was determined to be normal.

A siren approached, saving her from further scrutiny. The cop eased back. He opened the car door. Abby nearly cried as frigid air swept over her freezing body. Her muscles cramped, and her bones and teeth ached. He withdrew from the vehicle to flag down the rescue vehicles.

In short order, she was bundled into the ambulance and wrapped in warm blankets. The paramedic started an IV, the heated liquid warming her from the inside out.

Truthfully, she’d love to answer the policeman’s questions. What had happened? How did she end up in a river? And why couldn’t she remember?

While the paramedics took charge of Ms. Foster, Ethan retrieved his coat and belt from the riverbank. The fact that she was still shivering was a good sign. Conscious and talking, she seemed as if she’d be all right. He stopped at his cruiser to change his soaked shoes for the boots in his trunk. Then he walked toward the waiting ambulance and perched on the rear bumper while the medics settled Ms. Foster inside. One of the EMTs wrapped a blanket around Ethan’s shoulders and gave him a quick assessment.

A dark-blue SUV parked on the shoulder, and Police Chief Mike O’Connell got out. Ethan’s boss swept a knit cap off his red hair and zipped his coat to his chin as he walked over. A slight limp was the only sign of the knife wound that nearly killed him three months before. After several months of recuperation, the chief was nearly back to his collegiate wrestler shape. O’Connell handed Ethan the cap and crossed his arms over his massive chest. Worried pale blue eyes scanned Ethan from head to toe. “Are you all right?”

“Soon as I change I’ll be fine.” Ethan’s teeth chattered, making the words hard to enunciate. “That water is damned cold, though.”

With a relieved sigh, the chief nodded toward the river. “Any idea what happened?”

“No. I’ll have to get her statement at the hospital.” Shivering, Ethan summarized the event while the medic took his vital signs.

The chief scanned the scene. “I don’t see any skid marks.”

“Road’s slippery.” Ethan dug a toe at the asphalt. The surface was more than wet. “Black ice.”

“If she applied the brakes, there should be some sign of a skid.” The chief walked to the shoulder of the road. His critical gaze swept from the snow-dusted road to the car bumper sticking out of the river. He squatted to inspect the tire tracks in the mud and frowned. The car had left twin furrows in the roadside muck. The ruts were too neat and smooth. There were no signs that the vehicle had swerved or slid on its descent down the embankment. “I don’t like it.”

Suspicion slid down Ethan’s back, along with a drop of melted sleet.

The paramedic nudged Ethan toward the open ambulance door at his back.

“Whatever happened, she’s lucky you were passing.” The chief’s eyes snapped back to Ethan. “Go.”

“I’ll get her statement while I’m at the hospital.”

The chief raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you sure? I can get Pete to do it. He’s coming on shift now.”

Now that was tempting. Ethan had enough problems of his own. But the accident bugged him, and there was something about Abby Foster.…He stood and looked over his shoulder into the ambulance. Her slim body was encased in thick blankets, her big brown eyes glassy with shock. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The chief lowered his voice and leaned closer. “OK. While you’re there, get her to consent to a blood alcohol test.” Straightening, he turned toward the tow truck pulling onto the shoulder. “Good work today, Ethan. I’m damned glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.” Ethan climbed inside and sat on a bench, grateful Ms. Foster hadn’t died either. His mind conjured up an image of her body floating lifeless in the freezing current. Ethan pushed it away. There was no point in torturing himself with what-ifs. He’d gotten to her in time. End of story.

An hour later, the ER physician, satisfied that Ethan’s body temperature and vital signs were normal, declared him fit. Dressed in a borrowed pair of scrubs and drinking a scalding cup of coffee, Ethan left the curtained ER cubicle. His teeth had finally stopped chattering, but he could still feel the chill in his bone marrow. A nurse directed him to his accident victim. Through the clear glass wall, he saw her reclining in a cubicle. Her eyes were closed. A Styrofoam cup steamed on a tray table next to her. An IV line trailed from a bag of fluids into her hand.

He knocked on the doorframe. She startled, then recovered with a slow blink of doe eyes that warmed Ethan better than any cup of coffee.

“Ms. Foster, how are you feeling?” He stepped up next to the gurney.

Her fresh face and blonde hair poked out of a heap of blankets. She looked sweet and young and vulnerable. A small bump swelled on her forehead, the skin around it reddening. Just below it, a small Band-Aid covered the cut above her eyebrow. She’d have a nice bruise tomorrow. Ethan stamped down his stirring emotions. More than the average amount of sympathy was swirling around in his chest. This was police business. There was no room in the job or in his life for a pretty blonde.

“I’m alive, thanks to you. Please call me Abby. You saved my life.”

Ethan’s face heated. He sipped his coffee to clear his throat. “I have to ask you some questions.”

“Of course.” But she looked sick at the thought.

Ethan pulled his notebook from his pocket and took her personal information. She squinted as if the bright light was painful. “Does your head hurt?”

“A little.” She touched her temple and winced.

He eyed the lump. “Were you wearing your seat belt?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I unfastened it to get out, but the car kept moving.” The small amount of color her face had recovered drained away, leaving her skin pale and smooth as river ice. “It was disorienting.”

“I imagine it was.” Empathy filled Ethan. He’d been in the open creek, and that had been bad enough. He couldn’t comprehend the terror of being trapped in a submerged car with bone-numbing water rising all around. “Tell me about the accident. Where were you going?”

“To the park.” Her tone was unsure. Her brows drew together in a confused V.

Ethan’s pen hovered over the page. “Which park?”

“I run at the park behind the township athletic fields. I knew I’d be stuck with the treadmill for the next few days, so I wanted to get a good run in before the storm hit.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds.

That couldn’t be right. “The sleet started hours ago.”

“I don’t remember driving into the water. I don’t even remember leaving the school. I teach math at Westbury High.” Her voice trembled, and her slender throat moved as she swallowed.

Ethan checked the Styrofoam cup on the table. Full. “Do you want some of your hot chocolate?”

She shook her head. “I wish I remembered.”

“Let’s talk about what you do recall,” Ethan said. “How did you get out of the vehicle?”

Her eyes filled with moisture. With a brave sniff, she pulled a hand free of the blankets to swipe a stray tear from her cheek. “Through the window. I didn’t know the button would work underwater.”

“They’re supposed to, but they don’t always.” If the windows hadn’t worked or if he hadn’t stayed at that farm all afternoon, Ethan would’ve been diving for her remains. Navy SEALs aside, not many people can keep their cool to wait for a vehicle to fill with water, then calmly open the door and swim to safety, especially if the vehicle doesn’t stay horizontal.

“What do you remember about your day?” How hard had she hit her head?

“I was at the high school getting ready for my run. I changed my clothes in the locker room. A second later I was sitting in my car in the river.”

“What time did you leave the school?”

“Two thirty.”

Ethan glanced at the clock. “What did you do for two hours?”

“Excuse me?”

“By the time I spotted you, it was four forty-five.”

Her color shifted from pale to sickly gray.

Concussion? Blackout? Seizure? Possibilities rolled through Ethan’s head. If she’d been using drugs, she’d likely be less cooperative. “Did you tell the doctor you couldn’t remember?”

Her lips flattened out, and she gave him a quick, short nod. “They’re going to do a CAT scan.”

Damn.

The chief’s request echoed in Ethan’s mind. “I’d like you to consent to a blood alcohol test.”

“Why?” Her eyes went wide, then darkened.

“So we can eliminate that as a cause of the accident.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Fear? “I haven’t had as much as a glass of wine since last weekend.”

“Then there shouldn’t be any problem.”

“All right.” She nodded, but distrust lingered, along with something else Ethan couldn’t identify. Reluctance?

Ethan looked down at his notebook. So far, all he’d written was
doesn’t remember two hours before accident
. Some interview. He jotted down a few more notes. Abby Foster and her problems were damned distracting. “How long have you worked at the high school?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Ethan reached for a pink plastic tub sitting on the tray table. She grabbed it from him. Embarrassment radiated from her watering eyes.

“I’ll just step out.” Ethan ducked into the hall. A familiar slender brunette in her late thirties rushed toward him.

“Ethan!” Brooke Davenport shoved her keys into her coat pocket. A red tote bag was draped over her arm. “Is Abby in there?”

Ethan nodded. “Is she a friend?”

“Yes. Is she OK?” At the sound of retching, Brooke pushed past him. “Excuse me.”

Ethan had known Brooke for years. She taught self-defense classes for women at the local community center. The Westbury officers took turns donning a protective suit and acting as attackers so her young female students could practice their techniques. As the youngest officer on the small force, Ethan was “volunteered” often. He’d taken more than his share of well-placed kicks.

He watched through the glass. Brooke took charge of the plastic tub and was stroking Abby’s hair away from her face. Feeling like he was invading Abby’s privacy, he turned away. He wasn’t going to get anything out of her tonight. He’d leave the poor woman alone. On a positive note, she’d consented to alcohol testing, which saved him a huge hassle. Technically, Pennsylvania had implied consent laws regarding alcohol testing and driving, but Ethan had no desire to play hard-ass or jump through legal hoops.

He bummed a ride from an EMT back to the police station parking lot where his pickup waited. The wintry mix had changed over to light snow. He started his truck and called the chief.