Roxanne Rustand - Deadly Competition

Dean clenched a fist so tight that his fingernails drew blood.

No one shamed him, ever. Not anymore.

A childhood filled with abuse and threats had instilled in him the absolute refusal to let anyone take advantage of him. The fact that he was now the laughingstock of his fellow cops over his runaway fiancée filled him with rage that grew hotter with every passing day. She’d not only disobeyed him but also fooled him with lies about her purported wealth before that.

He’d find her.

He’d haul her home.

And she would beg his forgiveness for the arrogant independence she was flaunting right now. But she didn’t deserve that forgiveness, and he was going to make sure she was sorry and obedient for the rest of her life.

He felt a deep surge of pleasure, envisioning her punishment. Imagining just how obedient she would be. How desperately she would wish she hadn’t made such a foolish mistake.

The phone in his kitchen rang. He caught it on the second ring, after checking the caller ID. It was Jess, a fellow deputy who owed him some big favors.

“Gotta lead.”

“Yeah?”

The other man laughed nervously. “Bus stop in Atlanta. A clerk saw the flyers we sent down there. Says he saw someone who looked like her, ’cept her hair was different. He doesn’t know which bus she got on, though.”

“Did you get his name? I might want to ask him some questions.”

Jess recited the name and phone number of the clerk, who was eagerly awaiting a reward he would never receive. “Uh…when you do find her, you aren’t gonna do anything crazy, right?”

“What do you think?”

“No, really, man—you gonna patch things up? Ms. Willis is one nice lady, and her daddy was real good to my family after our house fire. Real good.”

“I’ll make things right, don’t doubt that.” Smiling with satisfaction, Dean hung up the phone and stared out at the deepening twilight. His reflection looked back at him—powerful. Strong.

The face of a man who knew how to take charge.

“Don’t doubt it for a minute, Jess,” he said softly. “Things will be exactly right, once I catch up with her. And when I do, she won’t be running again.”

“So, how are things going?” Shelby Mason, head librarian at the Loomis Public Library and a longtime friend of Leah’s, made her way through the people visiting with each other outside the church and leaned over to give Sarah a quick hug. “I haven’t gotten to see you for a while!”

“I gotta nanny.” Sarah pointed a chubby finger at Mandy, who was standing at Clint’s side.

“As of last week.” Clint nodded and made the introductions between the two women, thankful for this sunny Sunday morning and the friends who had made the last four months bearable. “You’ve been a true blessing, Shelby, for all the times you’ve watched Sarah. I hope we won’t have to impose quite as often, now.”

“It was never an imposition.” She tucked her long, auburn hair behind her ear as she gently touched Sarah’s cheek. “We go way back, don’t we, sweetie? I got to hold you when you were just an hour old. But you’re a big girl, now. Do you like Sunday school?”

Sarah nodded emphatically and held up her collection of colorful papers. “I made pictures.”

“That’s great!” Shelby straightened and looked at Mandy. “So, is Clint a good boss, or is he driving you crazy?” She cocked her head when Mandy just offered a polite smile. “Ahhh…diplomacy is best. Someday, we’ll have to meet for coffee, and you can give me the real scoop.”

The rest of the congregation had spilled out the front doors of the church, and people were chatting in small groups nearby. Clint glanced around, and waited until Sarah and Mandy wandered a few yards away to inspect some dandelions. He lowered his voice. “Have you seen any more signs of Leah?”

“Only that glimpse I thought I caught of her in the shadows a few weeks ago, and I still don’t understand it. I just know it was her—but why would she run when I called her name? She should know I’d do anything to help her. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re her best friend. If she was in Loomis, why wouldn’t she contact you directly—or me? And why wouldn’t she come to see Sarah? She loves her daughter more than life itself.”

“Maybe she wanted to come home but heard about the warrant for her arrest and is too afraid.” Wrapping her arms around her waist, Shelby shivered. “I would be, if I knew the police thought I was a murderer…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Except we both know she never would’ve been capable of—” He caught his past tense and cleared his throat. “Maybe Earl wasn’t a good husband, but she wouldn’t have harmed him or anyone else. And as far as Dylan Renault, he died after she disappeared. She surely wouldn’t have any reason to sneak back into town to do something like that.”

At Shelby’s raised eyebrow, Clint flinched. Shelby was certain that Dylan had slipped a drug into Leah’s soft drink at a party and that the wealthy playboy had raped Leah. The very thought of it made Clint’s stomach pitch. But rape or not, Leah would never sink to murder.

“I still think there’s a possibility that Dylan was Sarah’s father, and given the circumstances, you have to admit it could be true.” Shelby linked her arm through Clint’s and drew him even farther from the others. “DNA testing could prove it either way. Sarah would never need to know what the blood sample was for.”

Clint sighed heavily, torn by the options that had been plaguing him for months. “I can’t go behind Leah’s back like that. It should be her choice.”

“Look, if DNA shows Earl was Sarah’s dad, there’d be no reason to think he went into a jealous rage over finding out that he wasn’t. There’d be no reason for Leah to resort to self-defense.” Shelby glanced across the lawn to where her fiancé Patrick was strolling in their direction with the minister, and lowered her voice. “And if Sarah wasn’t Dylan’s, why would Leah confront him after all this time—much less kill him?”

Their eyes met, and Clint knew he and Shelby were both thinking the same thing. Sarah had the exotic, almond-shaped green eyes and blond hair seen in some of the Renaults. Earl and Leah both had brown eyes and dark hair, so the chances were slim that Earl could’ve been the child’s biological father.

“I have to believe that when we find Leah and get her side of the story, we’ll be able to prove that she’s innocent—because she is. As for all the rest—” Clint splayed his hands. “I just have to trust that God is watching over her and that everything will work out for the best. It’s what I pray for every single day.”

Mandy hadn’t meant to eavesdrop yesterday after church. But the rest of the congregation had drifted away, and Clint’s deep voice had carried to where Mandy was helping Sarah string a daisy chain of fat, golden dandelions.

The tension in his stance and the agitation on Shelby’s face had been clear, too.

At first, Mandy thought the two might be romantically involved, because they’d stood so close, with Shelby touching his arm and looking up at him intently, but then a handsome man had joined them, brushed a kiss against her hair, and introduced himself as Patrick Rivers, Shelby’s fiancé.

Surprised at her own flicker of relief, Mandy had focused on the dandelions in her hand. The little sense of awareness she felt whenever Clint drew near meant nothing. She had no future here. It wouldn’t matter if he was dating, engaged or even married. It might be better if he was.

Right now on this Monday afternoon in Loomis, she couldn’t even imagine ever wanting to be involved with another man. If she’d been so utterly wrong about Dean, how could she ever trust her heart again?