Running for Her Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

mile from town when she saw a car crest the hill. Without breaking stride, she edged farther to the side of the road, onto the hard-packed gravel that bordered the blacktop. She’d just lifted her hand in a neighborly wave when the car swerved, gunning straight for her.
    * * *
    J AKE DESPERATELY NEEDED COFFEE . On his best days, he didn’t generally participate in any real conversation until he’d had his first cup followed by two or three quick refills. And he wasn’t at his best today. He hadn’t slept well. Wanted to believe it was because he’d been in a strange bed in a strange house with six weeks of duty facing him. But he suspected it had less to do with that and more to do with a strawberry-blonde with freckles on her nose and pretty green eyes.
    Chase had left a brief note, wishing him well, along with keys to a cruiser that matched the car Andy Hooper had been driving the previous night. There were also a couple sets of uniforms. After waking up, he’d showered, pulled on a pair of khaki pants, a shirt that fit well enough, and buckled the standard-issue duty belt that Chase had left hanging over the door.
    Now, fifteen minutes after his feet had hit the floor, he was in the car, headed toward Nel’s Café. The night before, he’d seen the sign on the door, indicating that business hours started at six and ended at three. He parked, got out, and could see that someone had turned the blinds enough that he could see inside.
    The dining area was still dark. Through the service window, he could see light in the kitchen and somebody moving around. Female. But definitely shorter and heavier than Tara.
    Not that he was looking for her.
    He debated returning to his car to wait, but liking the stillness of the early morning, he merely leaned his back against the building. He’d barely taken three deep breaths when an old man walked around the corner.
    “Morning,” the man said. He stuck out a weathered, arthritic hand. “Nicholi Bochero.”
    Jake returned the shake. “Jake Vernelli.”
    “Figured as much. I live upstairs, above the restaurant. Got the lowdown on you last night from my grandson, Andy Hooper. The boy should be along shortly. He meets me for breakfast most mornings.”
    The door to the restaurant opened. The woman from the kitchen, wearing a white apron over her navy shirt and slacks, motioned them in. Her coarse gray hair was cut military-short and her face was lined with years of experience.
    “Uh…morning, Janet. How…uh…are you?” Nicholi asked. The old man suddenly sounded out of breath.
    “I’m all right, I guess,” the woman answered. She turned away, but not before Jake saw a flush start at her neckline and spread its way north, filling in cracks and crevices. And like most cops who’d been cops for any length of time, he was pretty good at knowing when the energy in the air changed. In the past few seconds, it had skyrocketed upward.
    Janet had Nicholi’s coffee poured before the old man carefully lowered himself down on the second-to-last stool at the counter. He nodded his thanks and followed her movements with his eyes. Meanwhile Janet was looking everywhere but at him.
    Oh, boy. Hormones—albeit some old ones—were shaking off some dust motes here. Jake slid in next to Nicholi, and when Janet held up the coffeepot in his direction, he nodded and practically sighed in appreciation when he took his first sip.
    “New police chief?” Janet asked.
    “Interim,” Jake corrected immediately.
    The door opened and Officer Hooper walked in. His face was freshly shaved and with his ruddy complexion, he looked about sixteen. “Morning, sir…uh…Chief,” he said to Jake.
    The kid made him feel ancient. “Morning, Andy.”
    The young officer walked past Jake, patted his grandfather gently on the back and took the last seat at the counter. “Where’s Tara?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” Janet said. “When I arrived and she wasn’t already here, I called her house.