Deadly Pursuit Read online

  “How does spaghetti sound?”

  “Cool!” He unbuckled his seat belt.

  Nicole opened her door and swung her legs out. “I got some of that garlic bread you like too, and . . .”

  The words died in her throat as she noticed a tall, thin man sliding from behind the wheel of a battered pickup truck a dozen cars down in the lot.

  Daryl.

  His long, shaggy hair was gone, but she had no problem identifying him.

  She watched, shock rippling through her, as he reached back inside to withdraw a gift-wrapped object and a small bouquet of flowers.

  When the back door started to open behind her, she jerked toward her son.

  “Kyle, stay in the car. I have to talk to someone. Lock the door and don’t open it until I tell you to, no matter what. Okay?”

  As she issued the terse instructions, she checked to make sure the doors on the far side of the car were locked. Then she tucked the keys into the cup holder beside her and flipped down the cover. She wanted them locked in the car, not on her person.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  She heard the fear in his voice. Wanted to reassure him. Didn’t have the time. Daryl was closing his own door and turning toward her.

  “Nothing.” She fumbled through her purse for her cell phone and handed it to Kyle. “But if you get scared for any reason, I want you to dial 911. And stay put.”

  Without waiting for a response, she slid out of the car, locked her door, closed it, and marched toward the man she’d once viewed as a savior. She wanted to keep him as far away as possible from Kyle—and her life. She thought she’d been clear about that on the phone.

  Obviously, he hadn’t gotten the message.

  She lengthened her stride, trying to ignore the shakiness in her legs. She’d always hated confrontation. In her old life, she’d avoided it at all costs. But as she’d learned in the past few years, her predisposition to give in under pressure was what had gotten her into trouble. Sometimes you had to stand up for yourself.

  That’s what she intended to do now.

  Because the sooner she got rid of Daryl once and for all, the better off she—and Kyle—would be.

  As Nicole approached him, Daryl’s step faltered. She looked nothing like the meek, subservient woman he’d lived with for a year. Her entire demeanor had changed. Gone were the downcast eyes, the slumped posture. Her chin was up, her shoulders back. As if she was prepared to do battle.

  He hadn’t expected that.

  Nor had he expected her polish. She’d cut her hair to chin length and wore it in a sleek, sophisticated style. Her makeup was subtle, the turquoise eye shadow she’d once applied with a heavy hand now absent. And her knee-length black skirt, silky green blouse, and silver necklace reeked of class. Especially in comparison to the cheap polyester pants and sport shirt he’d picked up at Walmart with the money Chuck had loaned him.

  He came to a halt. On the phone, he’d gotten the feeling she thought she was too good for him now.

  Maybe she was.

  She stopped directly in front of him, blocking his view of Kyle.

  Or was it the other way around?

  “Hi, Nicole.” He managed a smile.

  She didn’t return it.

  “What are you doing here?” She pinned him with a glacial stare.

  “I wanted to talk to you in person.” He thrust the bouquet and present toward her. “These are for you and Kyle.”

  She ignored his offerings.

  “I told you last week to leave us alone. Our relationship is over. I have a new life now.”

  He lowered the flowers and present, his smile fading. “I want to start a new life too.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. And I wish you luck. But stay away from us while you do it.”

  There was a hardness to her face he’d never seen before. Along with a deep resolve that told him he might be fighting a losing battle. That threats would work no better than sweet talk.

  In desperation, he resorted to guilt.

  “I want you back, Nicole. And after all I did for you, you owe me.”

  She tipped up her chin and glared at him. “The sympathy ploy isn’t going to work. I paid that debt a long time ago. In fact, the way I see it, you owe me now. Thanks to you, I lost my son for a year. A year! Because you were doing drug deals out of our apartment! It doesn’t get much lower than that.”

  His temper flared, and he struggled to contain it. Who did she think she was, anyway, acting all high and mighty? She’d done bad things too. That’s why her old man had kicked her out. “You’ve changed.”

  “Yeah, I have. For the better. I have a good life now. And my head’s finally on straight, thanks to a lot of counseling and the friendship of people who care.”

  He narrowed his eyes as a new possibility occurred to him. One that could explain why she’d never answered his letters. “Is there another guy?”

  Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “That’s the last thing I need. For now, I’m happy to stick with the people who’ve helped me get my act together.”

  “Like Alison Taylor?” The social worker’s name came out in a sneer.

  “Yes. Like I told you on the phone, I owe her a lot. If she hadn’t been in my corner, I might have lost Kyle to foster care forever. I’ve met other wonderful people along the way too. My counselor. My boss. My pastor.”

  He blinked, blindsided. “You go to church?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “You always bad-mouthed God.”

  “That’s because I blamed him for my problems instead of taking responsibility for my own life. I finally grew up. And found my way to God. Knowing he’s on my side 24/7 has made a huge difference.”

  “I need you on my side.” He hated the note of desperation that crept into his voice. But it did diffuse a tiny bit of the tension in her face—and stir the embers of hope in his soul back to life.

  Then she frowned, snuffing them out.

  “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to start over. I think that’s great. But you don’t need me to do that. You can do it on your own. Despite what your father said. What he did to you.”

  He stiffened. Very few people had seen the dozens of small round scars on his back, remnants of the cigarette burns his father had inflicted as punishment for the slightest transgressions—and sometimes just for fun. When Nicole had asked about them, he’d told her the basics in a dispassionate sentence or two. The horror in her eyes, however, had suggested she’d understood far more about the misery of his childhood than he’d intended to relay.

  “This isn’t about my father.”

  “Yes, it is. Because what he did had a big impact on you. But you can move beyond your past. All you have to do is stop finding excuses to do bad things. Stop being a victim, Daryl. Take charge of your life.”

  His anger bubbled closer to the surface, and he tightened his grip on the flowers, crushing their stems. “That sounds like a bunch of psycho jargon.”

  “Call it what you want, but it’s true. Look, I’m sure my pastor would be happy to talk with you if you’re serious about straightening out your life. Would you like his number?”

  “No!” The word exploded from his mouth, and she recoiled as if she’d been struck. He dropped the gifts to the asphalt and grabbed her upper arms. “I want you.”

  The surprise on her face morphed into a taut anger. Her nostrils flared, but instead of bowing her head as she’d done in the past, she locked gazes with him.

  And he knew he’d made a fatal mistake.

  “Take your hands off me. Now.” Her command came out low and forceful, without any trace of fear.

  He didn’t move.

  “I said now, Daryl. Or I will scream and this place will be swarming with cops faster than you can put that beat-up truck into gear.”

  She didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t break eye contact. Yet she’d called his bluff, sending his anger ratcheting up another notch.

&nb
sp; He dropped his hands.

  “Let me make this clear.” She leaned slightly toward him, her tone deliberate and measured. “If you come within fifty feet of me or Kyle again, I will ask for a restraining order. Since you’ve just been released from prison, that could have very bad consequences. I would suggest you get back in your truck and drive away. You have ten seconds.”

  Daryl considered his options.

  Realized he had none.

  Kicking the flowers as hard as he could, he sent blossoms spewing over the pavement. Then he stomped on the wrapped package, shattering the cheap plastic robot he’d picked up for Kyle, and stalked back to Chuck’s truck. As soon as he had it in gear, he spun out of the lot with a screech of tires.

  When he reached the entrance, he cast one final look in the rearview mirror. Nicole was still standing there. Watching him. Waiting for him to disappear.

  He pounded on the wheel with his fist, fighting the temptation to go back and smash her face, like he’d done a few times in the past after she’d defied him. But fear held him back. He couldn’t risk an encounter with the cops. They’d throw him back in a cage. And he didn’t intend to spend another night behind bars.

  Gripping the wheel with unsteady fingers, he pulled into traffic, aimed the truck toward Chuck’s trailer, and debated his next move.

  He’d like to pay Nicole back for rejecting him. But if he did anything to her or Kyle, even something as simple and satisfying as slashing her tires, he knew she’d go straight to the cops and finger him as the likely suspect.

  No, Nicole was off-limits.

  Besides, the problem had begun elsewhere. With the woman who’d stuck her nose into his business in the first place, then turned Nicole against him.

  Alison Taylor.

  He dug through his pocket for the candy bar he’d pilfered in Walmart, ripped the paper off with his teeth, and took a bite. As he chewed, he thought back over his conversation with Chuck yesterday. The man had mentioned he had more ideas about how to make the social worker’s life miserable.

  That sounded real appealing. And fair.

  After all, she’d made his life miserable.

  Relaxing his grip on the wheel, Daryl savored the sweet taste of the melting chocolate on his tongue.

  Chuck was right.

  This could be a lot of fun.

  As Daryl’s truck disappeared from view, Nicole took a slow, deep breath.

  He was gone.

  Forever, she hoped.

  But if he showed up again, she’d follow through on her threat—and she had a feeling he knew that.

  Good thing he hadn’t been privy to her shaky legs, though. Or the thunderous pounding of her heart. Or the tremors in her fingers that she’d disguised by keeping a tight grip on her purse.

  “Mom?”

  Swiveling toward the car, she saw that Kyle had cracked his window two inches. Some of the color had drained from his cheeks, and he was clutching her phone as if poised to tap in the three numbers that would summon help.

  With one more glance toward the apartment complex entrance, Nicole pasted on a smile and returned to the car.

  “You can open the door now, Kyle. And hand me my keys, okay? I want to get the groceries out of the trunk.”

  He passed them through the window, along with her phone. As she fitted the key into the trunk lock, he scrambled out of the car, toting his backpack, and joined her.

  “Are you ready for that spaghetti?”

  He studied her in solemn silence. Then responded with a question of his own. “Who was that man, Mom?”

  She opened the trunk and snagged the three bags. “Someone I used to know.”

  “He looked mean.”

  No kidding.

  “Well, he wasn’t a very nice person a long time ago. But he told me he’s going to try and be better.”

  “Is that why he brought that stuff?” He pointed to the scattered flowers and smashed package.

  “Yes.” She closed the trunk and urged him toward the front door.

  “Was it for us?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come he threw it on the ground?”

  Nicole debated how to answer—and how to deal with the situation—as Kyle trotted along beside her. Daryl had always had a problem controlling his temper, and the sudden eruption of anger in his eyes when she’d held her ground told her he hadn’t conquered it while he was in prison. Yet if he was truly trying to build a new life, raising an alarm with the authorities now could derail his efforts.

  At the same time, she needed to be ready if he showed up again. As did Kyle.

  “Mom? How come he threw it on the ground?” Kyle repeated the question as they climbed the two steps that led to her tiny porch.

  She fitted her key in the front door and ushered Kyle in. With one more backward glance, she set the locks and started toward the back of the small two-bedroom apartment. “Come with me to the kitchen while I put away the groceries, and we’ll talk about it.”

  He followed, maintaining a tight grip on his backpack, his eyes worried. More worried than a seven-year-old’s should be. He had no specific memories of Daryl, which she considered a blessing. Nor did he remember his year in foster care. But their time apart had had a profound impact on both of them.

  For her, it had been a wake-up call: get her act together or lose the child she’d tried so hard to protect and loved with an intensity she’d never known was possible. For Kyle, their separation had been equally traumatic, leaving him with insecurities that made him clingy at times. Even now, three years after they’d been reunited, he had occasional nightmares. Only after she tucked him close beside her and soothed him with comforting words or songs would he fall back asleep.

  Putting him on alert without exacerbating any of his latent fears was going to be tricky.

  Nicole set the bags on the counter that separated the galley kitchen from the combination living/dining room and prayed for guidance. “You want a cookie and some milk while we talk?”

  His mouth dropped open. “Before dinner?”

  “On second thought—I guess not.” She grinned at him, took his hand, and led him toward the sofa she’d bought six months ago with money she’d saved specifically for the furnishings that graced the small living room of their home. The home she’d created.

  She patted the cushion beside her, then pulled him close as he sat, tucking him into the crook of her arm while she searched for the right words.

  “I knew that man a long time ago, honey. When you were really little. He wasn’t a very nice person back then, but I didn’t know that at first because he was nice to me in the beginning. He fooled me.”

  “Like Billy did with me?”

  His manipulative classmate. Excellent analogy. The kid never had returned the video game he’d borrowed from Kyle. Her son’s favorite.

  “Yes. Just like Billy. That man was only nice until he got what he wanted. He also did some bad things and went to jail. Now he’s out. He was hoping we could be friends again, but I told him he should make some new friends now.”

  “He looked mad.”

  “He was. That’s why he threw those things on the ground.” She brushed the fine brown hair on Kyle’s forehead to one side. “I told him I didn’t want to be his friend anymore and that he shouldn’t come back again. I don’t think he will, but I want you to promise you’ll tell me right away if you ever see him again. And never, ever talk to him. Okay?”

  “Do you think he might try to hurt us?”

  A tremor of fear threaded through his question, and she had to wrestle her sudden anger—and hate—into submission. After four years of hard work getting their life in order, she didn’t intend to let Daryl disrupt it again. Nor would she go back to living in fear.

  But she wasn’t as certain about his plans. That’s why she intended to watch their backs and stick very close to her son for the next few weeks.

  “I think he’s smarter than that, honey.” She hoped. “He knows if he does a
nything bad, he’ll have to go back to jail, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to do that. I don’t think you or I will ever see him again. But in case you do, you know what to do, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Tell you right away.”

  “You got it. Now, let’s get to that spaghetti.” She lightened her tone and summoned up a smile. “And maybe we’ll go to DQ for dessert. Do you think you could handle an Oreo brownie earthquake?”

  The mention of his favorite treat, reserved for special occasions, wiped most of the tension from his features.

  “That would be cool!”

  “I thought you might like that.” Nicole gave him one more squeeze and rose. “Why don’t you start your homework while I make the spaghetti? If you get it all done now, we might even have time for a video after our trip to DQ.”

  “Wow!” He popped up and jogged over to retrieve his backpack. “This is almost like my birthday!”

  Nicole unpacked the groceries as Kyle tugged his math homework out of his backpack and began doing sums. Already he seemed to have put the earlier incident behind him.

  But as she pulled out a pot and filled it with water for the spaghetti noodles, her unease didn’t dissipate one iota. It was possible Daryl was sincere about wanting to stay clean and straighten out his life. People could change in four years. She had.

  Yet doubt niggled at her mind. She’d gotten some bad vibes today.

  And she knew that for the foreseeable future, she’d be looking over her shoulder.

  A lot.

  9

  Alison pulled a box of oatmeal off the shelf at Schnucks, then checked the items in her cart against her grocery list. The only thing left to add was dog food.

  As she traversed the store, she kept an eye out for Erik. He was often on duty when she did her Tuesday after-work shopping. Since hearing Mitch’s story last night about the young man’s distress, she’d been anxious to reassure him she wasn’t angry. But she must have missed him.

  No surprise, considering she’d worked later than usual, thanks to the Callahan case. The babysitting neighbor, Bev Parisi, still hadn’t turned up—at her apartment or at the restaurant where she worked as a waitress—and Stan Orton was sticking to his claim that the mother often left the children at home unattended at night and on weekends. Unfortunately, Ellen had been unable to come up with anyone who could corroborate her story.