She Can Hide (She Can #4)(52)

“I don’t know.” Ethan drove toward the Garden State Parkway. “My question is, why are they both dead? Did they know something about your case? And who has something to hide?” Taking the northbound entrance ramp, he glanced at Abby. “Are you sure it was Abrams’s fault that you weren’t found?”

Abby’s eyes snapped to his. “That’s what the prosecutor said.”

“And he’s dead too, right?”

“Yes.” Abby chewed on her thumbnail. “You can’t think his death is related too. Whitaker said he had a heart attack.”

“Who the hell knows at this point.” Ethan lifted his phone and dialed the detective in Harris who was handling Faulkner’s homicide. The call went to voicemail. He left a message asking for a return call, then called Chief O’Connell. The file on Abby’s kidnapping hadn’t arrived at the Westbury police station yet.

“You’re sure he’ll give them to you?” Abby asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Ethan accelerated to merge into traffic. “We’re on the same side.”

“Won’t he want to protect Abrams’s reputation?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t get the feeling that Abrams was that well liked.”

Abby’s fingers tapped on her thigh. “What else can we do?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “Nothing makes sense.”

“I’ll need to stop at my place.”

“We can do that tomorrow.” Ethan was in no rush to leave her alone.

“Eventually I have to go home,” Abby said.

“As soon as it’s safe.” Ethan’s gut twisted. He didn’t want her to go home, and it wasn’t just because she was still in danger. He liked being around her. He liked talking to her. He liked kissing her.

And there were a thousand other things he could think of that he wanted to do with her.

Midday traffic was light. They made the drive back to Westbury in a few hours, arriving just in time to feed the horses. Abby went with him into the house.

Ronnie’s assistant, a college-aged brunette, was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. Zeus was sleeping at her feet. The dog heaved to his feet and greeted them with messy snorts.

“How’s the bay look?” Ethan asked.

“Better. The vet stopped by an hour ago. Fever’s down. Doc thinks he’s on the right track.” She put her mug in the sink and grabbed her coat from the back of the kitchen chair.

“Thanks for your help,” Ethan called after her.

“You’re welcome.” Her long brown ponytail swished as she bounced out the door with the energy of a kid.

Watching her, Ethan could feel every hour of sleep he hadn’t gotten over the past few nights. Long hours of driving and standing out in the weather hadn’t helped. His bones ached with cold exhaustion.

“I’m going to feed the horses.”

“Would your mom mind if I rummaged around the kitchen for dinner?” Abby asked.

“Not at all.” Ethan headed for the back door. “There’re usually leftovers in the freezer.”

With the drop of sunlight came the raw damp of night. Moisture on the air suggested precipitation was on the way. The bay did look better. He greeted Ethan and nosed his hay with interest. The roan attacked his meal. By the time Ethan returned to the house, his hands were stiff and frozen. Zeus was at the door. Ethan held the door open. While the dog did his business in the yard, Ethan toed off his boots and left them by the back door. His hands and face burned as he stripped off his gloves and coat in the mudroom. Zeus woofed, and Ethan let him back inside.

The microwave dinged as they entered the kitchen. The scent of something bread-like baking wafted across the room. Ethan’s stomach growled. He headed for the sink and scrubbed his hands. The warm water thawed his frozen skin.

“I found a container of some sort of stew in the freezer.” Abby lifted a bowl from the microwave and stirred its contents. “And I threw some biscuits in the oven.”

“You made biscuits?” Ethan shivered. The chill had followed him into the house.

“It’s not hard.” She smiled. “The horse is all right?”

“Yeah. He looks good.”

“Are you going to sleep in the barn tonight?”

“No.” Ethan’s tone was pointed.

Abby froze.

And the knowledge that they were alone in the house buzzed between them.

“I’m going to start a fire.” Ethan went into the living room. Nothing short of flames was going to thaw him out completely. Logs, kindling, and newspaper were stacked on the hearth. In a few minutes, a small blaze crackled. He held his hands out to the fire. Heat soaked into his skin.

Abby carried a tray loaded with bowls of beef stew, a basket of biscuits, and a bottle of wine. Ethan cleared the coffee table.

“My mother makes a mean beef stew.” And why was he talking about his mother? Ethan stirred the logs then joined Abby on the sofa.

“It smells fabulous.” Abby poured a glass of red wine and handed it to him. “I hope you don’t mind. I helped myself to the wine rack.”

“You can have anything you want.” And he meant anything. The wine and beef warmed Ethan from the inside out. He leaned back on the sofa, content.