Serve ‘N’ Protect by Tee O’Fallon
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cassidy ate the last of the cookies. A solitary pecan sandy. It tasted like chalk. Everything did, and everything reminded her of Markus.
Five nights ago, he and Ghost had left. She’d remained in bed, holding back the floodgates until she heard them drive off. Then she’d nearly drowned in her own tears.
Much to her dismay, the Morgan way had let her down. Giving voice to her feelings had been a bad idea. Blurting out that she loved him had been a mistake, but the words had flown from her lips before she could stop them. As she’d told Markus, there was no taking them back.
I’m an idiot. A stupid, impulsive idiot.
The words might have seemed right at the time, and at the time she’d thought it had been worth the risk. She’d stupidly hoped that hearing the words would get through to him. Clearly not.
It was different from what she’d gone through with Hugh, yet perhaps not so different at all. Once again, she’d opened her heart only to have it broken. She couldn’t have Markus any more than she could have had Hugh. Both men were incapable of giving her what she needed, albeit for completely different reasons. As it had been with Hugh, she didn’t fault Markus. He’d been through so much as a child. How could she possibly know or truly understand what it had been like for him growing up without love?
Like her, Markus had been given a raw deal, just in a different way. They both had scars, inside and out. In time, their outer wounds would heal. The inner ones… Who knew? Maybe Markus was so damaged that he would never be able to love anyone. It was a possibility that she’d never considered. Either way, she had to let him go because there was no fixing this. There was no fixing him.
She picked up her coffee mug. Empty. Like her heart. One would think that after three cups of coffee and enough cookies to give her a sugar rush big enough to keep an elephant awake for days, she’d be able to focus. Instead, she was exhausted, as if someone had opened up a bottle of wine then turned it upside down and let the contents gurgle out until the bottle was empty. Not even her work was going well.
Teedle Tech had finally responded to her password request but said they were having internal server issues and to be patient. So now, not only did she not have the missing documents, she no longer had access to all of the company’s annual income statements. This audit should have been a walk in the park. It wasn’t as if the company had shareholders and thousands of employees. From what she’d read, Walt Teedle was the sole owner and had started the company shortly after getting married twenty years ago.
At this point, it almost seemed as if they didn’t want her to finish, which was annoying as hell, since there’d been no agreement in writing for her to get partial payment for time invested if she couldn’t fork over a completed work product.
Cassidy grabbed her cane and went into the kitchen. Lately, she hadn’t been motivated to do any of her stretches or workouts, and now she was paying the price. Her legs were stiff and achy again. She searched the refrigerator for something to make lunch with, coming up empty. There weren’t even any cookies left.
Time to go shopping.
Since Markus had left, she hadn’t gone out. Anywhere. True to form, after reluctantly informing her family that he was gone, her parents had bugged her to stay with them for a few days. She’d declined, using the Teedle audit as an excuse. Truth was, she could have used their company, but she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Jimmy and Brianna with their families, or even Sean with Cherisse.
Having a big family one day used to be a sure thing. Kaitlyn kept bugging her to do the online dating thing, but the idea was ridiculous. Risking her heart again was daunting enough. She couldn’t bear to watch her date’s expression turn from one of hopefulness to dismay and disappointment as she limped into the restaurant. Seeing it in Hugh’s eyes was bad enough, and he’d known her before the accident. He should have seen that it was still her inside, but he didn’t.
Markus had.
Her vision blurred as she slammed the refrigerator door shut, then grabbed her purse. What she needed was time away from dating. Time away from men. A guy-atus.
An hour and a half later, Cassidy had checked off the last of her shopping list items and placed them on the conveyor belt. A sharp spasm ripped up her right calf, straight to her thigh and hip. She leaned on the grocery cart, gritting her teeth until the pain diminished. She couldn’t wait to get out of there and swallow half a bottle of aspirin.
After she and the clerk finished bagging her purchases, she pushed her card into the reader, wincing at the triple-digit tally. “Thank you,” she said to the cashier. This would have to be the last big shopping trip for a while. She wondered if Captain McMurray would really make good on his promise of $1000 a week for watching over Markus.
A tiny bubble of laughter stuck in her throat. Watching over him. What would McMurray think if he knew that her version of watching over him included sex?
She left the store, pushing the cart down the sloped curb, and headed in the direction of her car. Even if a check from the Secret Service did arrive, she didn’t know if she could actually cash it. The moment things had gotten personal between her and Markus, accepting that money no longer seemed appropriate.
One of the cart’s wheels jiggled, making it more difficult to push. Even after she hooked her cane on the handle, the going was still slow. Perhaps she should text John and ask if she could continue using his gym until he returned.
She’d progressed halfway across the road when an engine gunned. A black pickup pulled from the curb, heading her way. She pushed harder, trying to increase her pace, but the wheel jammed. Another look at the truck and her heart started hammering in her chest.
The truck wasn’t slowing. It’s speeding up!
Cassidy grabbed her cane, trying to maneuver quickly around the cart.
Another glance at the truck. Still not slowing down. And getting closer.
She plunked her cane in front of her, hobbling as quickly as possible. The truck was almost on top of her. Why doesn’t it slow down? They had to have seen her.
Stumbling, she planted her cane, realizing too late that she’d positioned it right on top of a storm grate. The tip slipped between the grates, the thick rubber padding on the end preventing her from pulling it out. No matter how much she tugged, it wouldn’t budge.
She let go of the cane and limped as fast as she could. She turned to look over her shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath. The truck was almost on her.
I’m not going to make it.
She dove headfirst, slamming onto the pavement. Pain blasted through her chest. Bits of gravel dug into her hands and knees. The impact had knocked the air from her lungs and she lay there, gasping and struggling to breathe. A crashing sound came from behind her, followed by screeching tires as the truck raced out of the parking lot onto the main road.
A few customers ran over.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I saw what happened. That guy nearly creamed you!”
“I got his license plate,” a balding man said, holding out a slip of paper. “Here. I wrote it down.”
Numbly, she took the piece of paper.
Cassidy inhaled, grateful for the fact that she finally could. Her heart rate had slowed, but she was trembling hard. “Wh-why didn’t he stop?” She struggled to a sitting position, not ready to stand yet.
“I’m calling the police,” a familiar voice said. It was Tanya, one of the store managers she and her family knew from years of shopping at this store. One of Tanya’s many tightly plaited braids fell over the phone as she put it to her ear.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” someone else asked.
“Maybe just a little bruised and scraped.” When she tried to stand, two of the people who’d gathered around helped her to her feet. The fabric of her jeans was ripped at both knees, and her palms stung from where bits of gravel had gouged her skin. She scraped off the tiny pieces, searching the pavement. “Where’s my cane?”
The shopping cart had flipped onto its side, the contents of which now littered the pavement. That must have been the crashing sound she’d heard. Then she spotted the cane sticking out from a storm grate. The metal tube was bent at a ninety-degree angle from being run over by the truck.
“Oh, no.” That was the only cane she had.
“Wait here,” Tanya said, still holding her phone to her ear. “We’ve got canes in our pharmacy department.” The woman headed back into the store.
A store clerk had rolled over another cart and was already loading up her groceries. Or what was left of them.
“What a mess.” Cassidy leaned against a parked car for support as she looked at the crushed eggs and flour that had exploded all over the pavement.
A siren wailed in the not too far off distance. Seconds later, a Maryland State Police car rolled in and parked at the curb. When the officer stepped out, Cassidy recognized her immediately.
“Miss Morgan,” Trooper Collins said, extracting a small pad from her breast pocket. “I understand there was an attempted hit and run. Did you call it in?”
She shook her head. “No, but it was me who was nearly run down.”
Trooper Collins’s brows knitted as she looked down then up Cassidy’s body. “Are you hurt? An ambulance is on the way.” Sure enough, another siren sounded in the distance.
“No, I don’t want to go to the hospital. It was just a close call, that’s all.” Although her palms and knees were beginning to sting from the abrasions.
Some of the crowd had dispersed, but a few still remained, including the man who’d given her the license plate of the pickup. “I saw what happened,” he said. “That pickup truck tried to run her down.”
“Can you describe the truck or the driver?” Trooper Collins asked.
“It was a black Dodge pickup,” the man who’d been helping her said. “I gave her the license plate number. Oh, and the driver had blond hair.”
Trooper Collins arched a brow as she looked at Cassidy. Markus had said the burglar had blond hair, and he’d also told the troopers that Hugh had blond hair.
Cassidy handed over the slip of paper, still not believing Hugh had anything to do with the burglary, let alone trying to run her down. The fact that it was the same make and color truck had to be a coincidence. Didn’t it?
“Why do you think it was intentional?” Trooper Collins asked.
“She was already out of his lane,” the man said. “But the truck veered toward her.”
Collins glanced up at the cameras on the side of the store, pointing. “I’ll run this tag then we’ll take a look at that video footage. First, I’d like to get all your names.”
As soon as she’d jotted down the names of the witnesses, they all left to go about their business.
An ambulance pulled in and parked alongside the store.
Cassidy’s stomach rolled with nausea at the thought of going to a hospital again. “Please, tell them to go away.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Trooper Collins said. “If you like, you can sit in my car while you wait.”
Moments later, she sat in the passenger seat while Trooper Collins typed in the license plate number she’d been given. “By the way, your ex-boyfriend has an alibi for the night your house was burglarized.”
Good thing. The idea that her ex had actually tried to rob her and then punched her in the face was disturbing, to say the least. “Where was he?”
“With his girlfriend. Not the best alibi, but he’s got one.”
She didn’t know whether to be surprised or relieved that he’d moved on. At least he wouldn’t be making any more unexpected visits. Then something about the trooper’s words made her curious. “What do you mean not the best alibi?”
“Girlfriends and partners often lie for their significant others.”
“So you’re not sure about his alibi?”
“All I’m saying is that someone gave him one.”
Hair on the back of her neck prickled. It didn’t sound as if Collins believed the girlfriend, which meant Hugh could have been the one to break into her house. But why would he do that? She’d returned everything of his, including the engagement ring.
Trooper Collins made a hmph sound.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The truck was reported stolen two days ago. It’s a black Dodge Ram pickup, all right.” She picked up the radio microphone and ordered a “BOLO” on the truck, explaining that the driver was wanted for questioning in a near hit-and-run incident.
“What’s a BOLO?” she asked. Markus would know, but he wasn’t here.
“Be on the lookout,” she answered. “If anyone spots the vehicle, we’ll pull over the driver and bring them in for questioning. Now, let’s go inside and have a look at that video.”
They went inside the store where Nino Perez, the head manager, escorted them into a security room with two monitors and a shelf stacked with audiovisual components.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” As Nino pulled out a chair for her to sit on, his dark eyes brimmed with kindness. “We’re restocking a cart for you with everything you purchased. No charge. You and your family have been customers of ours forever, so this one’s on us.”
“Thanks, Nino.” Slamming to the pavement hadn’t helped any, and as she eased onto the chair another shaft of pain shot up her leg all the way to her hip.
“Give me a minute to cue up the video.”
Nino clicked a mouse several times, rewinding the footage until she appeared on the screen, pushing the cart across the pavement. The black truck appeared out of nowhere as she frantically tried to move the cart out of the way. She closed her fingers around the arms of the chair, knowing what was coming next. She dove out of the way with barely a foot to spare. If she hadn’t abandoned her cane stuck in the storm grate, she—not the shopping cart—would have taken the brunt of the impact. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how close she’d come to actually getting run over.
“Can you cue up footage from the other camera, the one facing the street and the entrance to the parking lot?” Trooper Collins pointed to the other monitor. “Go backward in time from when the truck nearly hit her. I want to see what the vehicle was doing right before that.”
It took a few minutes before Nino could find what Trooper Collins was looking for. According to the time stamp, the black pickup turned into the lot about a minute after she had driven in and parked. The pickup, however, parked along the curb in front of the store, remaining in that same location until the moment she rolled her cart off the curb. As soon as Cassidy went onto the pavement, the truck started to move. When she crossed the yellow divider stripe in the middle of the road, the truck veered from his lane directly at her.
She swallowed the rising bile in her throat.
“Could be he was distracted then realized he’d almost hit someone and took off.” Trooper Collins’s eyes narrowed then she pursed her lips. “Or he could have been aiming for you.”
The grip she’d had on the armchair tightened. “You don’t really think…” She trailed off as the possibility took root. “I don’t believe it. Why would someone want to hurt me?”
“Why did someone break into your house and attack you?” Collins countered, ramming home the point that she’d been the victim of two violent crimes.
“Someone attacked you?” Nino’s voice was incredulous, his kind expression turning to one of shocked horror.
Cassidy’s jaw dropped. “Do you believe the same person did this?”
“What I believe is that it’s a pretty big coincidence. And”—the trooper pointed to the screen—“it’s not a great picture, but it sure looks like the driver has blond hair.”
She peered closer. Trooper Collins was right. The picture wasn’t clear, but the driver of the pickup definitely didn’t have brown or black hair.
It could have been Hugh. It could have been anyone with blond hair. Cassidy pressed her fingers to her temples. “I can’t believe Hugh would do something like this.”
“We don’t know it’s him, but I’ll talk to him, see if he has an alibi for today.” Trooper Collins made a few notes in her pad. “I’m calling in the same detectives I gave your burglary report to. Do you have someone you can stay with? Your neighbor?”
Cassidy’s heart lurched. She meant Markus. “No. He, uh, moved out.”
“Do you have anywhere else you can stay besides your house?”
“Why?” she asked, as the hairs on the back of her neck began prickling again. She already knew why but needed her to say the words that she was still having difficulty believing.
“I could be wrong,” the other woman said. “I hope I’m wrong. But I think someone just tried to kill you.”