She Can Hide (She Can #4)(70)

Abby’s mouth went dry. The nibble of aged cheddar turned to dust. With effort, she swallowed and set the rest of the cheese on a cocktail napkin.

The office doors opened. Flanked by two extra-large security guards, Ethan walked in. His gaze moved from Abby to Ryland and back again.

Bitterness tightened Ethan’s features as he stared down at her. “Was it all a lie?”




Tiny ice pellets pinged off Derek’s face. Heaving his backpack over the sill, he climbed out the first-story window onto the roof. Nothing terrible had happened at the foster house yet, but the time to leave was now. Once somebody—or worse, two somebodies—had a good hold on another kid, it was damned hard to get away.

There were three other kids staying here. One was little, but the other two were about Derek’s age. He knew better than anyone that age wasn’t a good indicator of innocence.

He’d thought Ethan was different, but the cop had turned him in, which proved that Derek really couldn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Abby. She’d been as shocked and pissed off as Derek at the cop’s betrayal.

But Abby couldn’t help him now. She had enough of her own troubles. Joe had tried to kill her—twice—and Derek’s mom had made it possible. It was partially Derek’s fault. He should have called the cops on Joe when he saw the chemicals and equipment in the basement. He’d thought Joe was making meth, but the reality was so much worse. As usual, Derek had been a big coward. And look what he’d gotten for being a chicken. He’d ended up in foster care anyway.

Maybe he deserved to suffer, but it wouldn’t be here.

He eased the window closed. A freezing wet wind blowing through the house would be sure to wake everyone in the house up fast. Derek needed the biggest lead he could get. The best scenario would be if he wasn’t missed until morning.

He inched his way to the edge of the roof. His sneakers slid on wet shingles. He spread his arms and regained his balance. Whew. Close one. Ignoring the ten-foot drop to the ground, he wiped his face and eyed his next move. Without the sleet, the low branch of a mature oak tree was an easy leap. Slippery surfaces would make his escape more of a challenge. But there was no going back now. Derek jumped. His rubber soles skidded on the slick bark. He threw his upper body forward. His stomach hit the fat branch and knocked the wind from him. As his lungs struggled for air, his hands scrambled for a hold. He teetered for a moment, and then his body stilled. He swung a leg up and over. The movement of his body shook water droplets from the bare limbs overhead. They rained down on him in an icy shower.

Straddling the branch, he scanned the house behind him. All seemed quiet. The windows were still dark.

Satisfied his exit hadn’t woken anyone, he inched his way to the trunk and shimmied to the ground. The impact jarred his frozen bones. The sleet was light but steady. His jacket and sneakers would be soaked before long.

Nothing he could do about that. The bad weather had its benefits. Derek scanned the sky. Thick cloud cover kept the neighborhood nice and dark. This place was a little farther outside of town than Derek’s house. The lots were bigger, the homes more spread out.

He jogged around the side of the property. Overgrown evergreen bushes lined the edges of the driveway. No one would see him from the house once he ran into the shadows. He breathed a sigh of relief and slowed to a walk once he reached his goal. He reached the end of the drive and turned left on the street.

A hand slapped over his mouth as someone grabbed him from behind. He was jerked backward against a tall, hard body. An arm wrapped around his ribs and lifted him off his feet. Derek kicked, panic giving his movements a frenzied randomness. One sneaker caught his assailant on the leg. The blow had no effect. The guy didn’t flinch or grunt. Nothing. Derek was tossed into the backseat of a dark sedan with no more difficulty than handling a bag of groceries. The door slammed. The locks came down.

Derek was trapped.




Ignoring the security guards and the older man in the expensive suit, Ethan’s eyes locked on Abby, sitting on a leather sofa. On the table in front of her, a tray of food and an unopened bottle of wine made a casual and intimate late-night meal. Jealousy burned a path through Ethan’s chest and spread through his limbs until his entire body felt like it was on fire.

“I didn’t lie about anything,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Right.” Bitterness tasted like bile in Ethan’s throat.

The old guy in the fancy suit stepped in between them. Was this Abby’s older man?

“I don’t know who you are, but you will explain yourself immediately. It’s late. Abby is exhausted, and I’m running out of patience.”

Ethan jerked his attention to the suit. He looked familiar. In his midsixties, he was frail-thin, not fit-thin. His eyes were a soulless black. Despite his aged state, the old man was a killer, pure and simple. This was a man who would flinch at nothing. Violent, heartless deeds had left their imprint in his eyes.

This was the older man Abby had had an affair with? The guy practically had mobster tattooed on his forehead.

The guard who’d emptied Ethan’s pockets in the elevator walked to the table and set his badge and gun on the glass. “This is Officer Ethan Hale.”

The old man spoke to Abby. “You brought a policeman here?”

The cold anger in his tone sent a sliver of fear through Ethan’s anger. He couldn’t let the old man hurt Abby, even if she had betrayed his trust. “No. She had no idea I followed her.”