Latimer's Law by Mel Sterling Page A

doing what you did.”
    “What’s that mean? Are you letting me go?”
    “I took the cuffs off you hours ago, Abby.”
    “You’ve got a truck and a gun and a mean dog and a badge somewhere. I’d have been stupid to try to get away. How far do you think I’d get?”
    “Yeah, that’s right. And why the hell would you want to go back, anyway?”
    “There are six people besides Marsh who depend on me going back.” She snuffled again, her voice wavering.
    “I’d bet money he’s been on the phone canceling with every single one of them. I know you feel guilty, but to Marsh they’ve never been more than a way of controlling you.”
    She stared at him, huddled on the bench not far from him. He could still feel the heat of her leg close to his, smell the yeasty beer on her breath when she spoke. “He might hurt them. Take his anger at me out on them.”
    Cade shook his head. “Your day care folks aren’t Marsh’s kind of target. They don’t interest him. You interest him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, get you to do what he wants. It’s how abusers work. With you gone, he won’t bother with them unless he thinks he can use them to get you back.”
    “I didn’t even call any of their families—”
    “Will you listen to yourself? You committed a felony to get away from him, and now all I get from you is that you think you’d better go back. What part of this doesn’t make sense to you? Because it’s clear as day to me. Tell you what, Abigail McMurray. I’m bushed. It’s been a hell of a day, and this headache isn’t gone yet.” He gestured to the lump on the side of his head. “We’re gonna go over there to my truck, roll out the bedroll inside it, and we’re going to sleep. We’ll talk about all this crap in the morning.”
    “S-sleep? Here?” There was a long pause, a very long pause, before she said, “We?” in a shaky voice.
    He rose, walked across the sandy campsite to the truck and shoved some of the gear to the sides of the bed before unhooking the bungee cord holding the bedroll. “It’s a campground. They don’t mind if people sleep here. Maybe you’ve heard of the idea.”
    “I... Look, it’s only an hour or so back to Wildwood. You could just—”
    “I could, but I’m not gonna. In the morning, Abby.” The pad unrolled with a soft thump. He reached into a duffel bag and found a flashlight, which he put into her unresisting hand. “I’ll give you five minutes to pee, and then I’m coming after you.”
    It took her maybe three minutes at the campground’s pit toilets before he saw the flashlight bobbing back. She stood next to the tailgate, shining the light in at him, examining his face, her own hidden by shadow behind the glare of the flashlight. “No funny stuff? I mean, I know I stole your truck. But that’s no reason for...um.”
    “What the hell? No funny stuff. On my honor.” He held up his hand in the Boy Scout’s salute. The flashlight beam played over him, settling at last on his face as she studied him. He tried not to squint in the light. He already looked like hell, scarred and bloody. No need to make it worse by looking suspicious on top of that.
    “This is...surreal.”
    “Welcome to my day. Climb in. Right side’s yours. We’re closing the hatch to keep the bugs out. I opened the side windows and the top vent because they have screens. It’ll still be too damn hot, but we won’t have the bloodsuckers.”
    She handed the flashlight in to him. He watched her as she crept inside on hands and knees, her shirt gaping open, her old, fitted jeans sexier than any short skirt she could have worn. Hell. What’re you doing, Latimer? Just drive her home, be done with this situation. She’s made her bed with that bastard, let her lie in it. You can’t save her from herself if she’s determined to screw up her life. But he couldn’t. He’d do his damnedest to save her, even if it was only for a few more hours. He could be the rock that kept her