She Can Kill (She Can Series) (9 page)

Through the glass, she watched him get out of his car. He was wearing a short, black wool coat and jeans. A shadow of dark stubble increased his mysterious aura. He wasn’t exactly handsome. Except for when he looked at his daughter, his features were too hard, and his eyes held the shadows of a man who’d seen terrible things. After Troy, she didn’t expect to be attracted to a man, at least not this soon. But there was something compelling about Cristan.

He went into the barn, and Sarah picked up her purse.

“You’re looking at him like he’s an ice cream cone and you want to—”

“Rachel!”

“What?” Her sister grinned. “The man is hot. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m hardly in a position to take an interest in any man.” Sarah followed her sister out into the cold and stopped in the barn to give Lady’s nose a pat. “I have a new job and two kids, and thanks to you, I’m considering starting my own business. I have enough to juggle.”

“If you say so.” Rachel’s grin faded to worry as she went into the stall and swept a hand over Lady’s enormous belly.

“She’ll be OK,” Sarah said. “I was two weeks late with Alex. Babies come when they’re ready, not a minute sooner.”

“I know. The vet says there’s nothing to worry about.”

But Sarah knew her sister would worry until a healthy foal arrived—and probably for a long time after. Love created vulnerability.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She read the display. A message from Troy:
CALL ME. NOW
. Resigned, she dialed.

“I’m bringing them home in thirty minutes.” Troy’s voice sounded strained, not exactly angry. Frustrated? Whatever emotion he was projecting, the tension she felt over the connection lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.

“I’ll be there,” Sarah said. He was bringing the girls home more than an hour early, but she didn’t protest. He couldn’t bring her girls home fast enough.

“You’d better be,” he said. “And you’d better start answering my fucking calls and messages, Sarah. You can’t ignore me.”

Not when he had the kids, she couldn’t. But Sarah refused to be baited. “I have to get in the car now, so I’ll be home in time. Good-bye.”

“You—”

She ended the call. Shoving the phone in her pocket, she glanced back at the man on the horse. Cristan carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that didn’t need to be bolstered by hurting others. She turned away from Cristan. She’d see him later. Lucia was babysitting tonight so Sarah could attend her last self-defense class. But there was no point wanting things she couldn’t have. Troy wasn’t going to let her move on.

As long as he had her little girls, she was powerless.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“This is risky,” her lieutenant said from the driver’s seat of the minivan.

“It’s a calculated risk.” She watched the dot on the GPS settle on a patch of green in the middle of nowhere. The address listed was the stable where Christopher boarded two horses. She consulted the spreadsheet of his activities over the past few weeks. “They went riding. He shouldn’t be back for at least an hour, and it isn’t as if we don’t know where he is at all times.” She gestured with the GPS.

“Keep watch on that screen.” He drove toward Christopher’s house.

There was no point following Christopher. The stable sat on a flat, open expanse of ground that provided no cover for a clandestine observer. Plus, a member of local law enforcement appeared to live on the farm. Both times she’d driven past, an official vehicle was parked in front of the house. She did not wish to attract attention, and this afternoon created the perfect opportunity to survey Christopher’s property in the daylight. Knowing he was occupied, they could get a closer inspection than they had on their previous drive-bys.

He slowed the car as they approached the house. “I don’t see anywhere to conceal the van.”

She pointed to the driveway. “I’m feeling bold.”

“Foolish would be a better description.” But he did as she requested, his reluctance evident in the stiff set of his shoulders and the thin line of his mouth.

She lifted a palm. “There’s nowhere to park out of sight. We might as well keep the car close.” There were times when one had to weigh the probabilities and make a decision. “You’ve been reluctant in every phase of this operation. Is there some reason you don’t want Christopher to pay for his crime?”

“Of course not.” He slowed at the driveway but didn’t turn. “We’ll park on the road and circle around through the woods. I’d rather cross some open ground on foot than be trapped. I do not wish to pay for revenge with my life.” He stopped on the shoulder of the road a quarter mile past the house. “Or yours.”

She caught the hesitation in his voice, as if the inclusion of her life in his statement was an afterthought. Neither did she appreciate his lack of obedience. She couldn’t forget that he was the hired help, and that, for her, this vendetta was very personal.

“Everyone dies,” she said simply. Her life had been filled with enough pain that death did not frighten her. “I’m tired of waiting. I want this finished.”

“Then what?” he asked.

She didn’t answer because she didn’t know. She’d been consumed by hatred for so long, she couldn’t imagine its absence in her life.

Putting the future out of her mind, she focused on the task at hand. She verified that Christopher’s car had not moved, then slid the GPS into her pocket. She was bold, not stupid. Underestimated, Christopher could be deadly. Camera in hand, she got out of the car. They trekked through a short patch of woods and emerged in the side yard. Keeping her distance from the house, she aimed her telephoto lens at the front door. “First surveillance camera is on the front porch, under the eave.” She snapped a picture.

“We won’t be able to get any closer,” he said.

“We don’t have to.”

They walked a wide perimeter around the house. Their trained eyes located several more cameras. She photographed them from different perspectives, zooming in close to note the direction of each camera’s focus.

Folding his arms across his body, he frowned. “Door and windows will be alarmed, possibly booby-trapped.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But there will be no police monitoring. Christopher would want to handle any transgressions personally.”

After rechecking the GPS to make sure his car had not moved, she rounded the building and photographed the backyard. She estimated the distance between the house and the river and the woods that flanked the house. Then they walked back to the car, where she made a quick sketch of the property, noting the location of every camera they’d found. The dot moved on the GPS screen.

“We need to finish.” She set aside her drawing. “He’s on his way.” She reached into the backseat and lifted the item she’d brought. “Stop at the mailbox.”

At the base of the driveway, she slipped out of the car and tucked her gift into the mailbox.

Would he know what it meant? Would he remember?

She hoped so. She wanted him to completely understand why she had to destroy him.

She opened the video function on her phone and touched the thumbnail image of Luciana. The film she’d taken at Luciana’s school filled the screen. She pressed Play. The young girl’s voice sounded clear and confident through the phone’s speakers. Anger burned deep inside her.

Today’s venture was worth every ounce of risk. She must focus on her goal. By next week, Christopher would be dead.

“What time does Sarah need you?” Cristan shifted into drive and steered the sedan toward home.

Lucia looked up from her phone. “I don’t have to be at her house until six. Her class is later tonight.”

Cristan glanced at the dashboard clock. “It’s after five already.”

He’d lost track of time while they were riding. Sharing his favorite activity with his daughter had claimed all of his attention.

“Oh,” Lucia said. “Maybe you should just drop me off now.”

He gave her an exaggerated sniff. “No. You definitely need a shower. You smell like a horse.”

She laughed. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure you can be quick.”

Cristan turned into their driveway. As he pulled around to the side of the house where the garage doors opened, the hairs on the back of his neck quivered. His foot lifted from the gas pedal and the car rolled to a stop. He scanned the stone exterior but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“What’s wrong?” Lucia followed his gaze through the windshield.

He pushed a button on the visor. The overhead door rose, and he pulled into the garage. “Probably nothing.” But he tucked Lucia behind him as they walked into the kitchen. The alarm panel displayed a healthy row of blinking green lights. There had been no disturbances. Cristan forced his muscles to loosen. The robbery had made him paranoid.

He was showered and dressed in a few minutes. Lucia wasn’t the only one who’d smelled like horses. Leaving his bedroom, he heard the shower stop in her bathroom.

“I’ll be in my office,” he called to the closed door.

“Five minutes,” she yelled in answer.

Downstairs, he booted up his computer and opened the security system software. He checked the feed for the surveillance cameras. All clear. Breathing easier, he shut his system down.

Lucia met him in the hallway, her still-wet hair spilling down onto the shoulders of her jacket. He grabbed a hat from a hook by the back door. Sighing, she tugged it onto her head as they returned to the car. Backing out, he waited until the overhead door hit the pavement before driving away. At the base of the driveway, the slightly open mailbox door caught his attention. He lowered his window and reached inside. On top of a folded stack of advertisements sat a stuffed brown rabbit.

“Ooo. What’s that?” Lucia leaned across the seat.

Cristan turned the toy over in his hands. A ribbon around its neck bore a square gift envelope. New, it was definitely not the same toy she’d owned as a baby, but his gut cramped as he opened the card. “To Lucia, from a secret admirer.”

“Really?” She lifted it out of his hands. Her voice rose to a squeal. “It’s so cute. I wonder who sent it?” She whipped out her phone and snapped a picture of the toy.

“What are you doing?”

“Snapchatting Jenna.” She looked up from her phone, her eyes lit with excitement.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Smiling, she exchanged texts in rapid succession.

But Cristan knew it was definitely something that put that glow on her face. “What does Jenna think?”

Lucia set her phone down and turned to face him. When her brows lifted in challenge, the resemblance to her mother was striking. “Jenna thinks it was a new boy at school. She says he likes me.”

“Boy? What boy? You haven’t said anything about a boy.”

“Because I knew you’d act all crazy-protective.”

Cristan’s jaws clamped together, stifling his retort. Lucia’s assessment of his reaction was accurate. The thought of a boy showing interest in his daughter made his hands curl into tight fists. He drew a deep breath in through his nose and flexed his fingers. He needed to change his approach. He didn’t expect a teenage girl to share
everything
with him, but he wanted her to feel like she could come to him with her problems. Clearly, she did not feel that way.

He smoothed his tone. “What is this boy’s name?”

“Taylor.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He moved here from California,” she said.

As Lucia rattled on about Taylor from California, Cristan frowned at the toy in her hands. Coincidence. It had to be. A stuffed rabbit was a common toy, especially with Easter approaching in a few weeks. No one could possibly know that she’d had a toy just like that one as a baby in Argentina.

But the sight of his daughter clutching the stuffed brown rabbit chilled his blood to ice.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Where were they?

Sarah fed the dog, started a load of laundry, and ran the dishwasher. The sound of a car engine pulled her to the front window. It wasn’t Troy. Her next-door neighbor parked his sedan at the curb and went into his house. Apprehension rippled through Sarah. She checked her cell phone. They should have been home ten minutes before. She had no texts or missed calls. It was only ten minutes, and Troy had said he was ahead of schedule. And that was before she’d angered him by hanging up on him.

Relax.

But ten minutes turned into twenty. Sarah paced. Scenarios ran through her head. Her imagination covered the paranoid gamut from he lost them to he wasn’t bringing them back. When the girls were another thirty minutes late, she started dialing Troy’s number on her cell. The dog growled and ran toward the door. Troy’s truck pulled into the driveway, and Sarah’s heart sagged with relief. They were home.

Troy got out of the truck and opened the rear door. The girls jumped down and ran across the grass. Pushing the angry little dog back inside, Sarah stepped out onto the stoop and dropped to one knee for hugs.

“Mommy, I missed you.” Alex threw her arms around Sarah’s neck. Emma leaned her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

“You’ve only been gone since this morning, silly goose,” Sarah said, keeping the moment light. She didn’t want the girls to feel any trace of the irrational fear that had gripped her just a few moments earlier, when her mind had been full of all the things that could have happened to them. Troy might hate Sarah, but surely, he loved his own children. Deep inside, he must.

Unmoving, Troy stood in the driveway. Just twenty feet separated them. Something about his posture was odd, almost apprehensive. Sliding out of Alex’s arms, Sarah straightened. “Why don’t you two run inside and wash up. I’ll make macaroni and cheese.”

“We had kids’ meals.” Alex opened the storm door and the two scampered inside.

“They were hungry.” He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.

Determined to be reasonable and amenable and all the other things her attorney insisted she needed to demonstrate, Sarah said, “It’s fine. We’re new at this. We’ll have to iron out those details. Next time just let me know if you’re going to feed them.”

He nodded. “I’ll pick them up Tuesday morning then.” He began to turn away, then stopped. “Sarah, I’m trying hard here.”

“All right.”

“I love you. I didn’t want a divorce. I want you back.”

No, he hadn’t wanted to sign the papers, but with assault charges looming and his income tied up with his failing business, he hadn’t had much of a choice. But love her? She saw nothing but hatred on his face every time he looked at her. Sarah reached behind her for the door handle. “Troy, that isn’t going to happen.”

His posture tensed. “You
have
to give me a chance.”

“No, Troy. You hit me.”

“You can’t forgive me for one mistake.”

“It wasn’t one mistake, and we both know that.”

His face and eyes narrowed. “You need to take some of the blame. You shouldn’t have made me mad when I was drunk.”

Sarah bit back her retort.
You were always drunk.
But she wasn’t going to let him draw her into an argument. “I’m going inside now.”

“Wait.” His hand shot out to stop her. He curled it into a fist, then dropped it to his side, his forearm tense as if the restraint cost him. “I’m sorry. I miss you, baby.”

Baby? He hadn’t called her baby since before the kids were born.

“I’m sober. I haven’t missed a single AA meeting. I’ve stayed away from you for five months. What else do you want from me?” he asked.

“Those are all great things, Troy. I’m glad to see you’re getting your life back on track, but we aren’t getting back together.” There were some things that couldn’t be forgiven. A broken arm and a concussion were two of them. That night hadn’t been the first of Troy’s temper tantrums. It had just been the most violent.

“Not even for them.” He nodded toward the house.

“No.” The girls had been so frightened that night that they’d hidden in their closet. “What happened between us wasn’t good for them.”

He leveled his gaze at her, and when she didn’t break eye contact first, he looked away. Sarah exhaled. She could do this.
Be firm. Do not engage.

“Good night, Troy.” Sarah went inside and closed and locked the door. Had sobriety changed him? Had losing his family made him see the errors of his ways? It seemed hard to believe, after several years of control and abuse, and after what he’d done to her just five months before, that he was a new man.

But her opinion didn’t matter. The judge had stressed that children flourished best when they had active and healthy relationships with both parents. She and Troy had two children together. He would be a part of her life forever. She could not allow him to intimidate her—or talk her into attempting reconciliation. It had only been five months. He couldn’t have changed that much, and even if he had, unlike skin and bone, their relationship was too damaged to heal.

She turned to the kitchen. Both girls were crowded onto the step stool in front of the sink. Alex reached forward to shut off the faucet. They scrambled down and dried their hands on a towel hanging from the refrigerator door handle.

Emma slipped into a kitchen chair. She rested her head on the table, her face turned to the side, her thumb in her mouth.

Sarah brushed a hair off her forehead. “Did you have a nap today?”

“She didn’t.” Alex dropped to her knees and opened the snack cabinet. “Can I have some cookies?”

“You may have one cookie,” Sarah said. Should she ask them about their day? On one hand, she wanted to know how they felt about the time they’d spent with their father. But she didn’t want them to think she would grill them every time they came home with Troy.

She went with a benign question. “Did you have a hamburger or chicken for dinner?”

“I had a hamburger.” Alex pointed to Emma with a chocolate chip cookie. “And half of Em’s nuggets.”

“Weren’t you hungry?” Sarah asked Emma.

“Uh-uh,” the little girl said around her thumb. Sarah resisted the urge to stop her. The child was stressed enough. There’d be time to rebreak bad habits when they’d settled into their new routine, and she looked exhausted.

“Lucia is coming tonight.” Sarah said. “Do you want to get a bath now or when I get home?”

“Later. Last time Lucia promised we’d play dress-up.” Alex wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and skipped down the short hall that led to the bedrooms, calling, “I have to find my tiara and my rain boots.”

Rain boots?

“How about you, Em?” Sarah turned to her youngest. “What do you want to do when Lucia comes?”

Em leaned over and vomited chicken nuggets and milk on the kitchen floor.

“Honey.” Sarah rushed forward, avoiding the splatter, and carried the child to the bathroom. She put her down on a blue plastic step stool in front of the toilet. “Do you still feel sick?”

Emma nodded. Her eyes were huge and her face was as pale as the ivory ceramic tile around the bathtub. Sarah wet a cloth, wiped Em’s face, and tucked some damp hair behind her ear. Em flinched. Sarah looked behind the child’s ear. A bruise darkened the back of her head. She ran her fingertips gently over the area and felt a goose egg on the child’s scalp.

“Ow.” Em flinched.

“What happened, sweetie?” Sarah fought to keep anger and worry out of her voice. Had Troy hit her? No. She couldn’t believe that. As awful as he’d been to Sarah, he’d never struck either of the kids. In truth, he’d never paid them much attention at all. During their marriage, Sarah had been the target of all his anger. But he was acting strangely.

Em’s thumb had found its way back to her mouth. She looked up at Sarah with sad eyes.

“She fell,” Alex said from the doorway. “Daddy told her not to climb on the ’splay, but she did it anyway.”

“Fell from where?”

Alex put a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “I’m not supposed to tell you about it.”

“Why not?” Sarah asked, suspicion creeping into her belly.

“Daddy said so. He said we can’t tell you anything that happens when we’re with him.”

“OK. Just tell me how Em fell.”

“She wanted the pretty balls, but they were up high and Daddy said she couldn’t have them. When he went into his office, she climbed. I told her not to.” Alex cast a worried look at her sister. “Is Em OK? Daddy said she was fine.”

“I hafta frow up.” Em’s voice was teary and full of misery.

With an aching heart, Sarah lifted the lid on the toilet and held Em’s hair while she lost the rest of her dinner.

Sarah mopped the little girl’s face again, worry gathering beneath her sternum. Was the vomiting caused by the bump on the head, a virus, or the chicken nuggets? As much as she dreaded it, she’d have to call Troy to find out. “Would you please bring me the phone, Alex?”

The little girl ran down the hall to the kitchen and returned with Sarah’s cell phone. Troy didn’t answer her call. She left him a message, then dialed the pediatrician and left her number for an immediate callback.

The doorbell rang, and Bandit exploded into a barking frenzy. He raced for the foyer.

“If that’s Lucia, you can let her in.” Her phone rang. She answered the call as Alex bounced away. A few minutes later, she carried Emma out of the bathroom. Alex and Lucia were in the living room. Alex was modeling a plastic tiara. Sarah poked her head into the kitchen.

Cristan was putting a new bag in the garbage can. He returned a bottle of all-purpose cleaner to the top shelf in the pantry. The kitchen floor was clean, and the odor of vomit replaced by the lemon scent of disinfectant. He closed the window he’d obviously cracked to freshen the room.

“You didn’t have to mop my kitchen floor, but you have no idea how much I appreciate that you did. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cristan cast a raised brow at Bandit, sitting at the threshold, looking guilty. “Bandit offered to clean up. I thought it best if I took care of it.”

The dog’s tail thumped on the carpet, a canine version of
my bad
.

Cristan crossed the room and placed a palm on Emma’s forehead, his dark eyes full of concern. “She’s not feverish. Is she ill?”

“I don’t know. She hit her head this afternoon. She’s probably fine, but the doctor wants me to take her to the ER, just to be sure.”

He frowned, his gaze meeting hers and understanding what she wasn’t saying. “I’ll drive you. Lucia will stay with Alex.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

“No, I don’t. You’re perfectly capable of handling the situation. But please allow me to help. How will you attend to Emma if you are driving?” He made a valid point. From the driver’s seat in the dark, she’d barely be able to see Emma in the back.

“All right. Thank you.”

He ushered them to the foyer, where he picked up Emma’s jacket from a chair and gently worked her arms into it. Then he helped Sarah with her coat before donning his own. Cristan drove the minivan. Sarah sat in the back next to Emma’s car seat and held a plastic bowl in her lap, just in case.

Several hours later, Sarah sat next to the gurney, stroking Em’s forehead while she slept. The cubicle was small, and Cristan had stayed out in the waiting room. Why couldn’t she have met a man like him six years ago? A man who mopped up vomit and handled a gross little dog with humor instead of anger. Instead, she’d picked Troy, who’d left his
own
vomit on the floor and kicked the little dog. She reminded herself that Troy hadn’t been an alcoholic when she’d married him.

“Where is she?” Troy’s voice carried down the hallway. “Sarah?”

Sarah breathed, wishing she hadn’t been required to call him. But the custody agreement was clear. The other parent must be notified in case of emergency. A trip to the ER was, by definition, urgent. Of course, he was also supposed to call her if one of the children was hurt or sick and he hadn’t. But she was going to do the right thing, legally and morally.

Emma stirred. Making sure the bed rail was secure, Sarah slipped out of the chair and poked her head into the hall. Troy opened his mouth, but she put a finger to her lips as she stepped into the corridor. “She’s sleeping.”

“It was a bump on the head. She doesn’t need a trip to the emergency room, Sarah,” Troy whispered in a furious hiss. “What are you trying to pull here?”