Fugitive at Large. Sandra Robbins
thought for a moment about what his brother had said, then turned to him and smiled. “Maybe I will. Maybe I will.”
Turning away from Jamie, he walked to the front door and stared out at Jessica as she climbed into her car, which was parked to the left of the entrance. She sat behind the steering wheel for a moment as if deep in thought before she finally started the ignition and backed out of her parking space.
As he watched her car disappear down the street, he thought of how he’d wrestled for the past four years with the decision of whether or not to try one more time to mend his relationship with Jessica. She’d been the best friend he’d ever had, and he missed her. But there was no getting around the fact that she didn’t miss him.
Did he dare try again to explain his side of their misunderstanding?
After a moment, he inhaled and muttered to himself, “It’s time to set the past straight. And this time, Jessica Knight, I’m not taking no for an answer. You are going to listen to me.”
Jessica pulled into her parking space behind the apartment complex where she lived, turned off the ignition and stared at the walkway that led through what she supposed some people might call a backyard. Not her, though. To her a backyard was a wide-open lawn with flower beds in the spring and shade trees to sit underneath in the summer. But the crowning touch would be a child’s swing set and a grill for barbecues.
She lay back against the headrest and closed her eyes as she let her imagination fly to the life she wanted to have one day. Right now, though, it seemed as if her dreams would never come true. She was twenty-eight years old, almost twenty-nine, and she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since high school. The guy she’d dated in college didn’t count because he didn’t like her brothers, and that was a deal breaker for her.
Her parents had worried when she became a police officer. Even more so when she joined the Knight Agency as a bounty hunter. They feared what might happen to her. And it almost had today. That bullet had come way too close.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she recalled the rush of air across her face and the smell of barbecued potato chips when the bullet struck the rack beside her. Her body began to shake as the scene in the store replayed in her mind. Why was she suddenly reacting this way?
Post-traumatic shock, she told herself. That was what it was. She’d studied it when she was a police officer and knew it was likely to happen after suffering an event where a person felt intense fear or horror. She also knew that it occurred more in women than in men.
But was that really what was wrong with her? She’d faced dangerous situations before and had never had this feeling of powerlessness. Maybe she was just tired and needed some rest.
Or maybe it was something else. Something she didn’t want to recognize.
Shaking her head in denial, she stepped from the car and headed down the short flagstone walkway that led toward the back door of her apartment. As she stepped onto the porch, she looked over her shoulder at the small grassy area the complex owners advertised as a yard. It wasn’t what she envisioned as a garden area, but it was okay for now. Maybe it was time to start looking for a new place with a backyard big enough for her to putter around in when she wasn’t working.
With a sigh she slipped the key in the lock and was about to walk through the back door when she heard the sound of a car engine. She glanced over her shoulder and stared at the black SUV that drove slowly past the parked cars behind the complex. It stopped when it reached near where her car was parked and sat there, its engine idling.
Jessica squinted to get a better look inside, but she couldn’t see past the tinted windows. The hair at the back of her neck stood up. Had someone followed her home?
She unzipped her jacket and pushed it back to expose the gun at her waist. The only reaction she received was the revving of the engine, but the car remained still. Frowning, Jessica stepped down from the back porch onto the brick walkway. The engine rumbled again, but the car still didn’t move.
Jessica’s heart pounded as she took one more step, then another. She was just about to pull her gun from its holster when the window on the passenger side slid down. A young woman stuck her head out through the opening and called out, “Excuse me, ma’am. Could you tell me where apartment 4-G is?”
Stunned, Jessica came to an abrupt halt and stared at the girl. The Greek letters on the front of her sweatshirt were the same as Jessica had seen on other girls walking across the nearby college campus.
“4-G?” she asked as she inched closer.
The girl smiled, and Jessica could see another girl in the driver’s seat. Her sweatshirt was identical to her friend’s. “Yes, one of our sorority sisters is moving in there, and we said we’d help out. But we haven’t been able to find it yet.”
Jessica released the hold she had on her weapon and pointed down the street. “Go around the end of this building and then turn to the left. It should be on the far end.”
The girl glanced over her shoulder at her friend and laughed. “I told you to go that way, but you wouldn’t listen.” She turned back to Jessica. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Jessica gave a weak wave and tried to smile. “No problem.”
She stood still and stared after the car as it moved off in the direction she’d pointed. After a few minutes she shook her head and chuckled. What was the matter with her? Had the incident at the convenience store upset her so much that she’d mistaken a simple request for directions to have some sinister motive?
If she had been as observant as she should, she would have been following the advice she’d given Jamie Spencer earlier—be aware of your surroundings. Then she would have known she wasn’t being followed.
Sighing, she touched her gun once more and headed toward the back door. If the convenience-store episode had taught her nothing else, it had reminded her to be more alert to what was happening around her.
She stopped on the small back porch and took a long look over her shoulder. Nothing there. Nobody following her. But she still had an uneasy feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She stood there for a few minutes, the scenario from the convenience store playing over and over in her head.
Something wasn’t right about the robbery. But what was it?
One of the first things she’d learned as a police officer was to trust her instincts when it came to solving a case. And right now some sixth sense was telling her she was overlooking something.
After a few minutes she shook her head. Whatever it was would come to her, probably at the least likely moment.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house felt warm and inviting after the cool temperature outside. She took off her coat and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair and was about to take her gun off when the front doorbell rang.
Jessica pulled the gun from her holster and eased from the kitchen into the living room and over to the apartment’s front door. The smell of barbecued potato chips enveloped her, and it was as if she was back in the store with a gun pointed at her. No way was she going to open the door without knowing who was on the other side.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, she stared through the peephole. The breath she’d been holding escaped her body in a big rush, and she sagged against the door. For the second time today she’d experienced a complete surprise.
Slowly she unlocked the door and pulled it open. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Ryan stared back at her, and then his gaze dropped to the gun she still held. His forehead wrinkled, and he tilted his head to one side. “Do you always answer the door with a gun in your hand?”
“Of course not. I had just gotten home and was taking it off.”
He