Page 88 of Out of Nowhere

He flopped back against the plexiglass, making it wobble as, softly but emphatically, profanities poured out of him.

When they stopped, Elle said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It matters a whole hell of a lot. Come here.” He put his foot on the bench and raised his knee, opening his lap. He held the sides of his jacket apart.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

“Come on, Elle. You have every reason to detest me, but it’ll take Glenda a while to get here, and you’re shivering.”

She wrestled with indecision, then inched closer along the bench. He drew her against him and wrapped her inside his jacket. “Lay your head down.”

“My hair is soaked. I’ll get your shirt wet.”

He cupped her head and pressed it down. Eventually she folded her legs up on the bench, rested her cheek against his chest, and relaxed against him. Given her frame of mind, he didn’t hold her as snugly as he wanted to, but as tightly as he dared.

But still, it felt good. Her elbow was wedged in his crotch and her breasts—braless—were soft against his ribs, except for her nipples, which weren’t soft. At all.

He was probably going to hell for thinking along erotic lines. But he could very well have died tonight, and he was probably going to hell anyway, so why not think dirty?

After a time, she said quietly, “She surprised me with doughnuts.”

“Hmm?”

“Glenda. This morning she dropped by unannounced. I didn’t tell her about last night. She figured it out when she discovered the signed copy ofHeavens to Betsyyou left behind.”

He hugged her a little closer, tipped his head down, and whispered against the crown of her head, “Remind me to get that from you.”

Chapter 26

They were there for almost two hours before Glenda arrived.

Twice they’d left the bus stop to conceal themselves in the nearest copse of evergreens. Once, a mean-looking state trooper’s SUV had whizzed past. Its flashing emergency lights had signaled its approach, giving them time to slip into the darkness of the dense grove.

The other time, they’d heard a helicopter. From their cover, they saw its searchlight skimming over the treetops, but it never got near enough to pose a real threat to them. Neither wanted to venture whether it was searching for the shooter who’d killed two lawmen, or for them. Calder supposed both.

They were anxious, exhausted, stiff with cold, wet, as miserable as two people could be when Glenda’s luxury SUV began slowing down as it approached the school campus. Calder stepped out from the bus stop and flagged her down.

As Elle hastily made the introductions, Glenda helped her into a quilted jacket. She then looked Calder up and down, said, “Pleased to meet you,” and handed him a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Anybody will drink that,” she added, her tone insinuating anybody who was lowbrow enough.

With attitude, he cracked the seal and took an indecorous swig, then climbed into the back seat. Elle got in up front on the passenger side and moved the seat forward to give him more leg room. Once they were headed back toward Dallas, Glenda began demanding details.

After listening to their harrowing tale, she shook her head. “Unbelievable. What now? What are you going to do? What can I do? Should I call Daddy? He could provide private security for you. Tough guysnobodywould mess with. He could jet you off to someplace tropical and safe. He could also send a battalion of lawyers and have them sue the asses off everyone responsible for this fuckup.”

“Hold off on all that for now,” Elle said wearily but with humor. “I’m less interested in punishing them than I am in bringing my son’s murderer to justice.”

“Well, of course.”

“I just don’t know how to go about it.”

Glenda caught Calder’s eye in the rearview mirror. “What about you, Mr. Hudson? What do you think you should do?”

“I think you should call me Calder. I think Elle and I need time to wrap our minds around what happened at that safe house. We’ve been running on adrenaline. I haven’t given it much thought except to escape it. But now… how in the hell did the shooter learn where we were?”

“It had to be from someone within one of the two sheriff’s departments,” Elle said. “Shauna’s source?”

Calder was skeptical. “It’s quite a stretch between leaking info to Shauna and being in cahoots with the shooter. Someone referred to as a ‘glorified gofer’ doesn’t feel like a fit.”

“Then back to the original question,” Elle said. “Who gave us away? How did he find us?”

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