Read Pushed Too Far: A Thriller Online
Authors: Ann Voss Peterson,Blake Crouch
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Murder, #Serial Killers, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Crime Fiction, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
She’d thought she’d found something with Lund for a brief moment, but now the spark between them had changed. She supposed she was okay with that, maybe even a little relieved. She had Grace in her life, and that was hard enough.
Tomorrow she might not be able to lift her foot. The next day, tremors could steal the ability to write or raise a cup of coffee to her lips. No one could say how fast the disease would progress or the severity or the life altering effects. Next month she could be in a wheelchair or she could feel up to going for a horseback ride.
But eventually her symptoms would grow worse. Eventually her body would cease to work.
Lund was a lot like Grace. He liked to help, to rescue others. Even now he couldn’t let go of his wife, as if he could rescue her from beyond the grave. Or maybe just have a piece of her in the form of a child who might be his or could just as easily be the son of a killer.
Whatever happened with Lund and Grace, Val knew one thing for certain. While the disease would eventually steal her life, she wasn’t willing to steal the lives of those she loved.
Or even those with whom love had been a fleeting hope.
“You back at work?” he asked.
“Not officially, though I’m not suspended, just on leave.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“No.” As Irony would have it, Pete Olson was acting chief. As irony would also have it, in the past two days, he’d hardly made a move without consulting her. “I’d better get back. You can manage?”
“Dempsey will see I get home. The man’s like a mother hen.” He reached out his hand as if to touch hers, then let it drop to his side. “Going home to Grace?”
“Speaking of mother hens?” She wanted to touch him. She wanted to stay. Instead she took a step toward the car. Then another. “We’re driving the Nova to Chicago.”
“Whether your friend wants it back or not?”
“Oh, she loves this car. She just doesn’t want to admit it.” She forced a smile to her lips. “Take care of yourself, Lund.”
“You too, Chief. You too.”
She walked back to the car, pushing her thoughts and feelings about Lund behind the closed door with all her other phantoms. Someday she’d have to pull them out, one by one, and examine them. Someday she’d have to come to terms with what she’d done and who she’d loved and how she’d let them down.
Someday.
Today she would focus on Grace.
L
und had to tell her. No matter the outcome, she deserved his thanks.
He’d already tried the refurbished police station, and then he’d checked her house. That left only one place she and Grace could be on this warm spring day, and he already knew the way.
Wind rustled in trees just getting their buds. The air smelled of mud, horse manure and green sprouts of April grass.
He found her in the barn, running a brush over a horse’s back. Clumps of shed hair scattered the concrete driveway.
She stopped brushing and turned to face him. “Hi.”
“Hi. You look good.” He wasn’t fibbing. Her hair was pulled back in that business way she seemed to prefer, but dark circles no longer cupped her eyes, instead energy sparkled in them like the sun off Lake Loyal.
“You look good, too. Come to see Grace?”
Her lips pinched a little, and he regretted the awkwardness between them. Unfortunately, a lot had happened in the years they’d known one another, and sometimes you couldn’t go back. “I want to thank you.”
Val had discovered the baby with Becca’s college roommate. The woman had believed she was babysitting while Becca was on vacation.
“You got the tests back?” Val asked.
He nodded.
She watched him, not speaking, as if wanting to read the outcome in his eyes before she dared ask.
“He’s not mine.”
For a second, he thought he saw tears glossing her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I had to know. Now I do.”
She nodded.
“He’s being adopted by a good family. Hess won’t be able to reach him. He should have a good life.”
“I hope so. I’m just … I regret not telling you right away.”
“I know.” He should follow with assurances that it was all okay, but he couldn’t manage. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. “I appreciate you finding him. That meant a lot to me.”
She nodded. “I know things aren’t going to be the same between us, and I want you to know I understand. I agree it’s for the best. I’m just glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, too.”
A swallow darted through the barn, wings fluttering. The horse pawed the concrete with a steel-shod hoof.
“Grace is out riding. She’d love to say hi.”
He let out a breath. It was good to get their regrets out in the open, but he was relieved to turn to an easier topic. “I didn’t see her out there.”
“She’s on the trails in the woods. You’ll have to ride out to find her. Think the leg’s up to it?”
“Riding a horse, huh?”
“What do you think?”
It carried a risk, a challenge. And God knew he was a sucker for that particular adrenaline rush. “Only if you go with me.”
She gave him a smile, a wonderful sight to see. “Only if you help saddle them up.”
“Bring ‘em on.”
Saddling two horses was more challenging than he’d imagined, but Val was an expert. Her fingers flew, adjusting and buckling, one hand as adept as the other. Soon he was standing out in the warm sun with a fully saddled horse. “Now what do I do?”
“Stand at the horse’s shoulder and put your left foot in the stirrup.”
He did as she said. “Check.”
“Now grab the horn with your left hand and the cantle with your right, and swing your leg over.” To demonstrate, she mounted her horse.
Getting on his was a little tougher than she made it look, but finally he was sitting on the horse’s back. “The view up here is nice. Maybe I’ll quit the fire department and become a cowboy.”
She went over how to tell the horse to start and stop and turn. And they started walking away from the barn, the saddle creaking under him, the smell of horse and fresh air teasing his senses.
“You’re doing great,” Val said. “Any questions?”
“What do I do if I fall off?”
“Get right back on again.”
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about horses or the rest of life, but maybe it was all part of the same thing. “I guess that’s all any of us can do,” he said, and they set off down the trail.
Chapter One
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Chapter Two
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Chapter Three
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Chapter Four
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Chapter Five
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Chapter Six
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Chapter Seven
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Chapter Eight
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Chapter Nine
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Chapter Ten
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Chapter Eleven
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Chapter Twelve
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Chapter Thirteen
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Chapter Fourteen
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Chapter Fifteen
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Chapter Sixteen
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Chapter Seventeen
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Chapter Eighteen
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Chapter Nineteen
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Chapter Twenty
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Chapter Twenty-One
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Chapter Twenty-Two
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Chapter Twenty-Three
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Chapter Twenty-Four
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Chapter Twenty-Five
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Chapter Twenty-Six
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Chapter Twenty-Seven
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Chapter Twenty-Eight
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Chapter Twenty-Nine
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Chapter Thirty
Much research went into imagining the world of Val Ryker, and I received a lot of help on the way.
Thank you to the Middleton Police Department, led by Chief Brad Keil, and all the officers who taught the citizens’ police academy. Special thanks to Officer Greg Dixon, Officer Dave Kasdorf, and Detective Dave Haselow, who have answered my questions over many years and many books. Long ago I promised to name characters after them, although I’m sure they didn’t have these particular characters in mind. Luckily their namesakes in the book are
nothing
like them.
Thank you to the Middleton Fire Department, led by Chief Aaron Harris, and all the firefighters who taught the citizens’ firefighter academy. Special thanks to Battalion Chief / Community Education Specialist Brad Subera, without whom David Lund wouldn’t have had a clue how to perform his job.
Thank you to the Dane County Sheriff’s Department, led by Sheriff Dave Mahoney, and all the deputies and other professionals who taught the citizens’ academy. Special thanks to Public Information Officer Elise Schaffer.
Research is always the first step, and I had lots of help bringing the book to fruition. Special thanks to J.A. Konrath, Maria Konrath, Blake Crouch, and my mom Carol Voss, who has been my sounding board from the beginning … literally.
Of course, Acknowledgments aren’t complete without thanking my husband John Lund Peterson and our two sons for not minding that I live in imaginary worlds.
And I have to throw in an extra dose of thanks to Wisconsin’s terrific public employees. Police, firefighters, teachers, snow plow drivers, correctional officers, and the list goes on. Without you not only would this book not work, but the state of Wisconsin wouldn’t either. I’ll march with you anytime.
A Rita Award nominee and Daphne du Maurier Award winner, Ann Voss Peterson has written 25 romantic suspense novels for Harlequin Intrigue, and now writes thrillers on her own and Codename: Chandler spy thrillers with J.A. Konrath for Thomas & Mercer. This English-creative writing major worked as a bartender, a horse show groom and a professional window washer before publishing her first novel. She has over three million books in print all over the world. Ann lives in Wisconsin with her family.
Copyright © 2012 by Ann Voss Peterson
Cover and art copyright © 2012 by Carl Graves
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
March 2012