Woman on the Run (new version) Read online

  “Not here, Jim,” she said, exasperated.

  “But—but Miss Andersen,” Jim protested. His watery pale blue eyes widened with distress. “Chuck said that I wasn’t supposed to let you out of my sight.”

  Julia curled her fist around the door’s edge. “I’m sure Chuck didn’t mean that you had to follow me into the ladies’ room. I assure you, Jim, I’m going to be fine.”

  Without giving him a chance to say anything, she slid into the teacher’s lavatory, closing the door behind her. Bracing two hands on the sink, she examined herself in the mirror.

  And she’d thought her life had raced out of control after witnessing the murder. That was nothing compared to being protected by Sam Cooper. She looked around the small lavatory. It was the first time she’d been alone in three days. Cooper had spent the rest of Sunday night and early Monday morning on the phone with Herbert Davis and conferring with Chuck. They had drawn up elaborate plans, that she hadn’t been able to follow, full of “clear lines of communication” and “fire zones” and “signal intelligence”. Julia had fallen asleep on the couch to the sound of Cooper’s deep voice discussing military strategy.

  She now lived in an armored house. Everything that could open was alarmed. Her front and back doors were now made of reinforced steel. Two of Cooper’s men had been sent to Boise, and on Monday night, motion detectors and tripwires were installed. Her phone was set up to record messages and had caller ID. Each room had a fire extinguisher.

  From the moment she woke up in the morning to when she came back to her house, Julia was handed from man to man in an unbroken chain of stewardship.

  After breakfast, Cooper waited until Chuck came over before leaving for the ranch. Chuck walked her to the school door and left her with Jerry Johnson, who walked her to her classroom door. After school, Chuck was waiting at the school entrance. The past two days, Chuck had accompanied her to Jensen’s grocery store, where she and Beth pored over drawings and colors. Julia had promised to help Beth redecorate. Then Chuck or the lanky foreman called “Sandy” would walk her home. They would wait until Cooper arrived and make a solemn little ceremony about “handing her over”.

  Julia felt like the baton in a relay race.

  She hadn’t the faintest idea what story Cooper and Chuck told the men in Simpson, but it got results. Loren stood rigidly behind the counter, eyes scanning the street outside, while she and Beth happily planned the grocery store’s rejuvenation. Julia had sketched sheet after sheet while Beth talked and Loren hadn’t once taken his eyes off the door.

  Once, when a lost and bewildered traveling salesman had walked in and asked for directions, Loren had pulled a walkie-talkie from under the counter and spoken into it quietly. He’d also pulled a pistol and lay it on the countertop. The salesman’s eyes had widened and he lost all color in his face.

  Chuck and Bernie had immediately materialized. Chuck’s hand hovered over his pistol holster and Bernie carried a rifle. The traveling salesman had looked from one unsmiling, suspicious face to the other, bought a bag of apples, asked the way to Rupert and quickly exited. Julia could see him mop his brow outside the shop and run to his waiting car. Chuck and Loren and Bernie had moved to the entrance and watched until the car’s taillights had disappeared from sight.

  It was no way to increase tourism.

  Julia was looking forward to the evening with Cooper. He had delivered a brand-new plasma TV with an inbuilt DVD player and had brought over enough films on disk to keep her busy for the next fifty years. To her astonishment, it turned out that Cooper was a film buff, too. The older the better, just like her. Their tastes ran along remarkably similar lines, though Julia had a slight preference for romantic comedies and Cooper leaned toward Hitchcock and Westerns. Tonight he’d promised to bring over Casablanca.

  Except for when she was in school, Julia carried a gun, a small, powerful one. A Beretta Tomcat that took .32 caliber bullets. Or “rounds”, as Cooper called them.

  Cooper had said that he didn’t want her to have a “girl’s gun”. The Tomcat was small, but Julia was astonished at its kick, and at the damage it could do to the few tree trunks she was starting to hit.

  She had a callus between the thumb and forefinger and had had to set aside special clothes for shooting practice because she came home reeking of cordite after a practice session. It took her an hour to get the powder out from under the fingernails of her right hand.

  Cooper was an excellent instructor, patient and thorough. At first, he had walked her through the theory over and over again, until her head spun with “sighting planes”, “trigger pulls” and “creeps”. Then he had let her start target practice. The back of her legs still hurt from the improper stance she’d adopted at first. Cooper had made her lean forward in a slight crouch, steadying her hand with his until she got off the first shot of her life. She missed, but not by much.

  Cooper made a big point of praising her aim, though Julia knew better. Still, a gun no longer felt like an alien metal lump in her hand. She doubted she’d ever have the nerve to actually fire at a human being, but it was astonishing how reassuring it was to have the gun near to hand at all times, which she was sure had been Cooper’s intention all along.

  A sharp rap startled her. “Miss Andersen?” Jim called anxiously. “You okay in there?”

  She sighed. “Fine, Jim. I’m coming right out.”

  The following afternoon, Julia stood at the door of Jensen’s grocery shop and listened wistfully to the bursts of female laughter coming from the Out to Lunch.

  Alice finally had the Rupert Ladies’ Association over and it sounded like everyone was having a wonderful time in Simpson’s brand-new diner.

  Everyone except Julia.

  She was under strict orders from Cooper to wait in the grocery store until he could come pick her up. Even Beth was over at the diner, probably gorging herself on Maisie’s rum chocolate mousse, Julia thought resentfully.

  To be honest, Beth had asked Julia if she minded. Julia had set her jaw and told Beth to go right ahead. But it wasn’t fair that she had to miss out on all the fun.

  Cooper had made it very clear that the Rupert Ladies’ Association was strictly off limits to her unless he was there. He would accompany her but only after he made it back to Simpson. He had an appointment with his lawyer in Dead Horse that he couldn’t put off. He said he’d be back by five but the meeting began at four. She’d miss the best part.

  She’d argued and pleaded last night, to no avail. She’d tried seduction and that had worked. Very well, too. Not to change Cooper’s mind, just to give her six or seven mind-blowing orgasms.

  She might as well have argued with the walls. Cooper was unmovable. It was crazy to think that someone from the Rupert Ladies’ Association could suddenly pull a submachine gun out of a flowered handbag.

  Julia had watched the ladies arrive, one by one. Women in Rupert obviously didn’t know that small handbags were in. To tell the truth, some of the handbags the women had been carrying were large enough to carry bazookas in.

  Still, it was ridiculous of Cooper to be suspicious of anyone who belonged to the Rupert Ladies’ Association. They’d all known each other forever. He didn’t trust anyone he hadn’t known for his entire lifetime, childhood included, even if the person in question was seventy, female and arthritic.

  Well, this wasn’t living. What was the point of being alive when you couldn’t even taste some of the best rum chocolate mousse in the world? Not to mention the best sour cream apple cake or chocolate Bavarian or brown betty. Maisie had outdone herself. Julia knew because she’d had a few preview samples. But now she wanted the real thing.

  Another burst of laughter came from the diner and Julia gazed longingly down the street. It was empty, as usual. No crazed killers toting guns, no sinister figures, not even a stray dog. She was all alone, and everyone else in Simpson was at the party.

  Except for Loren, who was out back, fussing with the supplies. Paint, varnish, nails
, scaffolding, antique wooden barrels. Saturday was going to be the big day for Jensen’s Groceries. The store was going to be redecorated according to the plans Julia and Beth had drawn up.

  Julia could hear Loren muttering to himself and smiled. He wasn’t familiar with hardware and paint and she’d seen how he had been overwhelmed by the plans. It was only because Beth was so excited that he’d agreed to go along. He was probably shaking his head even now over all the things he’d had to buy.

  Julia checked the street again. Still empty. It was four thirty. Cooper said he wouldn’t make it before five.

  Four thirty-three. Julia ran her eyes up the empty street again.

  Why not? What could possibly happen? She could just nip into the “Out to Lunch”, have a quick cup of tea, nibble on a few of Maisie’s masterpieces, have a laugh or two, then run back before Cooper or Loren even knew she’d been gone. Just for a quarter of an hour.

  One last glance behind her and she shot down the street. She pushed open the doors of “Out to Lunch” and smiled as she took in the smells of wonderful food and the familiar sounds of a hen party.

  “Sally!” Alice bustled over, a wide smile on her face. She was dressed in a simple black dress and looked young and fresh and happy. “It’s great to see you. But I thought Coop said—” She turned at a hand on her arm. “Yes, ma’am,” she said to a stout matron dressed in a dreadful shade of orange-yellow, “it’s in the back, to the left. Pink bow for the ladies. Blue bow for the gents. Here, I’ll take you there.” With a laughing glance back at Julia, Alice escorted the lady to the back of the room. They looked like an exclamation point and a pumpkin.

  She’ll do okay, Julia thought fondly, watching Alice. She looked around. Now that it was full of people, the diner looked a little less cheesy. As a matter of fact, with Maisie’s mouthwatering spread out on a trestle table covered with a pale blue linen tablecloth and with pretty tea cups and saucers and several types of tea on offer, it actually looked…elegant.

  There must have been about thirty women in there and from the looks of them—and judging by the decibel level—they were all having a wonderful time. They were also devouring the food like locusts.

  Julia narrowed her eyes at the solid row of backs around the table of food and gauged the terrain. She would have to make a beeline for the table. There wasn’t much time and she wanted a taste of everything. Resolutely, Julia went forward, prepared to do battle.

  “Hey.” A young blonde stepped in her path with a plate full of everything going. “How you doing? Gee, it’s nice to meet someone I know. Have you tasted this chocolate foamy thing? It’s really great.”

  Julia studied the young girl. Something about her was familiar… “Mary,” she said suddenly, remembering. “Mary…”

  “Ferguson.”

  “That’s it,” Julia said politely, eyeing the table. There were three goblets of mousse left. “We met at the bookshop in Rupert, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.” The girl picked up a cruller and bit into it. “Wow.” Her eyes rounded. “What are these things called?”

  “Crullers,” Julia said. A hand snaked out from the crowd and took a goblet of mousse. One down, two to go. “Basically, they’re sweet fried dough. If you’ll excuse me—”

  The girl laid a hand on her arm. “You were right, you know.”

  “I was?” Another goblet disappeared and Julia gave an inward sigh. “About what?”

  “I made a stupid move.”

  “You made a—oh. You mean you haven’t found any clients yet?” Mary had talked about canvassing Eastern Idaho for clients for her law practice. “The sour cream apple cake was history and it looked like the chocolate Bavarian was on its last legs.

  “No, I’ve found a few clients, but…”

  Julia was finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation, her mouth was watering so much. She watched jealously as Mary finished off the last cruller on her plate. Too bad she was a hostage to the good manners her mother had drilled into her. “But?”

  Mary sighed. “I don’t know. I got a divorce and a personal injury.” She shrugged. “But the divorce is really bitter and the husband and wife are using the kids as hostages. And the personal injury—” She leaned forward and whispered. “The guy’s faking it. He’s hoping to make a lot of money out of the insurance company.”

  “No.” Julia tried to look suitably shocked.

  “He is,” Mary said solemnly. She pursed her lips. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought it would be like on TV. You know, fighting for justice, getting an innocent client off.”

  “What kind of law does your father practice?” Julia asked.

  “Real estate. I used to think it was boring, but now…” Mary sank a fork in the chocolate Bavarian and Julia watched as the fork moved to her mouth. She wanted to weep. “Now, I don’t know. No deadbeat dads and no fake medical certificates in real estate.”

  “Maybe you should rethink your position—maybe your father’s practice isn’t so bad, after all.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Mary said. “Say. This is really good, too.” She pointed with her fork at the Bavarian. “I was going to stick it out until Christmas, but you know what? I think I’ll go home after Thanksgiving. It’s only a few days away and Alice said the ‘Out to Lunch’ is going to have a real blowout for Thanksgiving. Then I think I’ll just pack up and go back home to Boise. Dad’s being real good about not saying ‘I told you so’.”

  “Mmm,” Julia answered politely, trying to sidle past her. The lone goblet of mousse just sat there, a sitting duck. It wasn’t going to last long. “See you on Thanksgiving, then.” A woman reached out for the mousse and Julia lunged to get there first.

  Suddenly, an iron hand clamped on her shoulder, and yanked her back.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A deep angry voice sounded from above and behind her.

  Uh-oh, Julia thought.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What the fuck was that about?” Cooper asked for the thousandth time. He had hustled her out of the diner without even allowing her to say goodbye and had frog-marched her to her house, his restless eyes searching up and down the street the entire time.

  Over the last half hour, he had worn a hole in her threadbare carpet, pacing as he chewed her out. “I thought I told you—”

  “Not to leave the grocery store,” Julia finished wearily. “Yes, you told me.”

  “You knew you weren’t supposed to go to Alice’s, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Cooper.” Julia’s eyes were closed.

  “You knew it was dangerous. We’ve gone over it a hundred times.”

  “Yes, Cooper.”

  She was usually so vibrant. Everything about her now seemed dull and subdued. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the floor as she struggled for control.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, hauling in a long, calming breath and finally looking up. She raked a hand through her hair. “You’re only trying to protect me and I behaved like a child. I apologize, Cooper.”

  Cooper was finally able to look through the haze of white-hot rage flashing through him when he’d seen her at Alice’s, chatting with a blonde girl and eyeing the dessert table. He’d dragged her out of there so fast she hadn’t had time to say goodbye to anyone, still clutching her dessert spoon. And all the while he had pulsed with rage.

  But the anger had been better than the fear. And the fear had come first, when he’d entered Jensen’s grocery store and found it empty. Fear such as he had never known had flooded through his system when an apologetic Loren had come in from the back room, wiping his hands on a floor-length apron, saying, “Sorry, Coop. I got carried away out back. Where’s…?” and then Loren had looked around white-faced, horror dawning in his eyes.

  Julia hadn’t been there and Cooper had felt the bottom drop out of his life.

  He’d watched Loren swivel his head, looking for her, knowing already that it was too late. “Oh, God, Coop—” Loren had whisper
ed. “She’s not here. Ohmigod, what have I—” But Loren had been speaking to empty air because Cooper had already shot into the street. He headed arrow-straight for the only place she could be other than dead.

  Alice’s ladies’ tea party.

  No matter that they’d fought bitterly over her going before he got back. No matter that she was under strictest orders not to go anywhere unless he or a handpicked man escorted her.

  Though she knew in her head that someone was after her, Julia was completely out of her element. She wasn’t wired for the chase. But he was. He’d hunted men and knew what a potent taste it was.

  He’d forced Herbert Davis to e-mail him the entire Santana file and his worry and fear had streaked up into the stratosphere.

  Santana wasn’t just any smalltime thug. He was a major mobster with the savvy and cruelty to go with it. Cooper knew enough about law enforcement to realize that a bounty of six million dollars meant that all the terminators across the States would be angling for information on her whereabouts. Right now, the U.S. Marshal’s Office stood between Julia and Santana, but six million was a lot of dead presidents.

  “I’m sorry, Cooper,” Julia said again softly and looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

  Cooper’s rage and the fear behind it were starting to subside. He still didn’t trust himself to touch her, so he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets and took a step back. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I shouldn’t have disobeyed you.”

  “No.” The stark word hung there heavily in the air.

  “You were worried.”

  Worried was an understatement. Terrified was more like it. “Yes.”

  “Still—” Julia struggled to keep her voice light. “Still, it’s hard to imagine a Rupert Lady in cahoots with Santana.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.” Cooper realized how harsh his voice sounded only when he saw her wince. She was retreating from him without moving a muscle. “The danger can come from any quarter, at any minute and if you’re not prepared—you’re dead in a heartbeat.” He watched those beautiful eyes widen and he swore viciously at a fate which had made such a lovely, gentle woman a hunted creature. “I’m not going to let Santana get you, no matter what. You can take that to the bank.”