The Runaway Daughter

Angie tuned out the mayor’s prattle and studied Garret Henderson instead. The boy wasn’t exactly tops on her list of trouble-shy kids. She’d caught him hanging around Sam Walker and a few other miscreants a little too often lately. A couple of times, she’d found herself wondering if the kid wasn’t strung out on something. Garret stood stiffly beside his dad. Silent—she’d like to think because of his grief over Travis Reynolds’s death. Or maybe he tolerated being used as a prop in his father’s political exploits even less gracefully than Angie did.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She left behind the scene threatening to turn her stomach.

“But, Chief Carter,” Cal called after her. “Do you have any comment on your election hinging on how well you handle the drug problem, especially now that Sheriff Rivers is on extended leave?”

“No,” was all she’d let herself say.

Sick of the mayor’s tactics. Sick of talking about the sheriff’s race—in which she was the sole candidate, but if a majority of the citizens didn’t cast their vote, the city council would be given the duty of appointing an interim sheriff once Eric left in the fall. Sick to death that kids were dying, yet the election was all anyone, including herself, could think about most days, she headed out the front door of the youth center.

Exactly when had she started dreading the thought of campaigning for the job she’d hitched her future to? And how was it possible she longed to keep walking until she reached the Rivers place, so she could talk through her second thoughts about her career—not with her boss, but with his kid brother?

Not going to happen.

She’d decided to wait until morning to follow up with Maggie. She wouldn’t interrupt their family’s celebration for anything. Especially to talk with Tony.

But the man managed to see her. The real her buried beneath the competent cop. He didn’t try to fix things she didn’t want fixed, her family’s favorite pastime when she let the doubt and fear slip free.

Tony would find a way to understand. He’d sit and listen to the confusion rolling around inside her head. The swamping guilt over Travis’s death. Her wishy-washy angst about the election. Maybe he’d even find a way to make her laugh.

Actually, it didn’t seem to matter what Tony did. It would be good to see him again. More than good. It would make the otherwise hopeless night ahead bearable.

Wonderful.

Why did Tony Rivers have to be exactly what she needed most, just when she’d promised herself she’d steer clear of the man?

CHAPTER THREE

“MAGGIE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO,” Claire said the next morning. She cracked the door open a little wider. “Who knows when Sam’ll be back. He’s already in a bad mood.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Claire.” Maggie put her hand on the door to keep her friend from shutting it in her face. No way was she giving up this easily. “Where’s Max?”

“In his crib. Sleeping, thank God. I’m trying to clean while I’ve got a few minutes.”

“’Cause Sam’s too lazy to pick up after himself?”

“No, because he was hopping mad about the place when he left.” Claire wiped eyes that looked swollen from crying. “I don’t want to deal with him coming back and getting mad all over again. It scares Max so bad, all that yelling.”

“Let me in.” Maggie reached inside and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Let me help clean. You look dead tired.”

With shaking fingers, Claire slid the chain back and swung the door wide. Tired wasn’t the right word. It looked as if she hadn’t slept at all last night. And she hadn’t been exaggerating about the apartment. Dirty clothes, dishes and baby things were strewn everywhere.

“Ew.” Maggie pried a container of Chinese takeout from where it had spilled and adhered to the coffee table.

“I don’t know how I could let everything get so filthy.” Claire took the mess from Maggie and tossed it into the unlined wicker trash can in the corner. “I’m just—”

“You’re just a new mom with no help around here, who’s trying to take care of a baby entirely on your own. Where’s this family of Sam’s? Why hasn’t his mother pitched in, if things are this bad?”

“Sam won’t ask Betty for help. His family never comes here. We always go to their farm out near Pineview. Once I get things under control, we’ll be fine.” Claire picked up a pile of soiled laundry. Tripping over a stuffed bunny, she caught herself on the end table beside the couch and toppled a shoe box to the floor. It landed on its side. A revolver rolled out.

“Oh my God.” Claire reached for the gun.

“Don’t touch it!” Maggie pulled her away. “Who knows what it’s been used for.”

“What?” Fear filled her friend’s hoarse whisper.

“You said Sam and those guys were talking about a drive-by shooting. What if—”

“No.” Claire sat on the couch, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe that Sam—”

“Of course you believe it!” Keeping quiet about Sam’s connection to Oakwood’s drug problem had tortured Maggie all through her parent’s send-off dinner, into the night, and right up until she’d kissed her mom and dad goodbye that morning. Then she’d all but run from her uncle’s good-buddy suggestion that they spend the day together. “What I can’t figure out is how you can believe it, and still be here with your baby.”

“Exactly where am I supposed to go, with no money and no way of getting any, except from Sam and his family?”

“Call your parents.” Maggie sat and put an arm around her friend. Claire was out of time and easy options. “You said they live somewhere near Williamsburg. That’s not so far way. I’m sure if they knew—”

“My parents are hundreds of miles from here, and don’t be so sure they’d help. When I left, they were lecturing me about being a high-school dropout. Add an unwed mother to the bargain, and—”

“They’ll want you back. And they’ll want Max, too, once they have a chance to know him. And you can stay with me until you reach them.”

“What about when Sam finds out? His mom won’t let me take Max—”

“No one has to know you’re at my house. My parents are on their way to New York.”

Maggie already missed her parents, and they would be back in a few weeks. Claire hadn’t seen her family in almost two years. She must be dying inside.

“It’s the weekend,” Maggie pressed. “We’ll lie low and figure this out together. Sam’ll think you skipped town or something.”

Claire was shaking her head again. She seemed to have run out of arguments. Maggie slipped the gun back inside the shoe box by nudging it with the lid. Then using the toe of her sneaker, she slid the whole thing as far away as she could.

“It’s not safe here. My uncle will help you keep Max away from Sam and his family for a few days, and by Monday you’ll be on your way to Virginia.”

Maggie heard herself make the promise and prayed Tony would play along. It wasn’t like she and her uncle were überclose or anything. He was fun to hang out with, but serious stuff wasn’t his style. But after she showed up with Claire, what choice would he have? Maggie wasn’t taking no for an answer, from him or her friend.

“Once you’re back with your parents, they’ll work out how to legally keep Max with you and away from the Walkers.”

And you can help my dad and his deputies nail Sam’s ass to the wall.

“I…I’d have to pack up all of Max’s stuff. I…I don’t know…”

“I’ll help.” Maggie pulled her friend to her feet and half shoved her into the other room. Sam might come back at any minute. “Just bring whatever Max’ll need for the next couple of days. You can borrow some of my clothes, and your parents will help you with the rest once you get to Virginia.”

A peek inside the portable crib between the bed and the wall confirmed that Max was sleeping soundly. From the mess in the closet, Claire produced an oversize duffel that Maggie helped her fill with diapers, baby clothes and the tiny toys Max chewed on almost constantly, now that he was teething.

“What about food?” Maggie couldn’t zip the overflowing bag, so she left it gaping open. “Do you need anything we can’t pick up at the grocery?”

“I’m still nursing mostly.” Claire set aside the extra blanket she’d taken from the playpen and headed for the bedroom door. “There’s half a box of rice cereal in the kitchen, and a few bottles of the fruit I’ve been trying to get him to eat—”

The front door swung open with a thump, cutting Claire off. Maggie grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her back into the room. Together, they tiptoed to the corner by the crib. Claire held her finger to her lips, an unnecessary bid for silence.