Feeling out of sorts, Graham decided he’d go for a drive. What he really wanted was someone to talk to. His sister, a good friend, sadly was on a date and told him he’d have to wait until the next day to tell her his woes.
Am I an idiot? Or is she guilty? Is she in danger?
It shouldn’t have surprised him that he found himself on Barnhill Road. As soon as he realized where he was and who it was connected to, he followed a side street, winding his way out of there. If Tarin found him this close to her house, she’d flip. Especially after what they’d put her through.
Seeing a park up ahead, he pulled over, figuring it would at least be a quiet place where he could unwind. He slouched in his seat and closed his eyes for a while. Exhaustion seemed to be his best friend these days, both physically and mentally. Everything that had been going on for the last six months was draining all his energy reserves.
His mind of course immediately brought up the conversation they’d had with Tarin. Everything was pointing at her or at least so it seemed. His going off on her without having all the facts was a testament to his tiredness. He still didn’t know where she fit into all this but his gut was telling him whatever she was into, it wasn’t to screw them over. Well at least he hoped not.
Laughter reached his ears and like a button had been pressed, his eyes popped open. He turned his head to look over the playground to find the source of that musical, energized mirth. A mom and her son were playing on the slide. Both seemed to be having a lot of fun. It was so refreshing to see such joy. How long he sat there, he had no idea but at some point he realized the woman was Tarin. He sat up straight; sure he had to be wrong. But now it looked even more like her. Climbing out of his car, he walked across the expansive lawn to the playground. The two were laughing and giggling and had no idea they had an audience.
“Mommy!” The little boy squealed.
Graham stopped, chilled by that comment. He shook his head, sure he’d misunderstood, but when he looked back the little boy was giving her big sloppy kisses. The bond he was watching was unmistakably one between mother and son. Feeling like an intruder, he was about to leave when she turned toward him. Startled, she jerked back, her body tense as though ready to flee. He could tell the moment she recognized him, her lips pursed together and anger spit at him from the very depths of her being. Like an idiot he walked toward her.
Something about her did not add up. He needed to find out what she was hiding... besides a son.
“What do you want?” She set the child down. “Go play, sweetheart. I’m going to talk to this man for a few minutes.”
He watched the boy run off with the vigor of the Energizer Bunny. “Does he ever wind down?”
She looked at him warily before turning back to watch her son, who was vrooming his truck through the sand. “Not too often.”
“Let’s sit, okay?” He indicated the bench a few feet behind them.
“I didn’t do anything, I swear.”
“We may have found a leak.” He really had no idea if she was a part of it. He did need to find out why she’d hacked his system and how she played into all of this.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Listen, I don’t want to talk about work anymore. Please look at me.” He waited until she complied. “I know I’m an ass. I’ve barely said five words to you outside of work and then I grab you today like it was my right. Sorry. For the grab, that is; not the kiss. That I’m okay with.” He locked eyes with hers, hoping she would see the heat in his.
“Momm—” The muffled scream shot her to her feet. A man was holding her son and was running across the field.
“Chance!”
Acting purely on instinct, Graham grabbed a rock the size of a fist and chucked it as hard as he could at the man before following Tarin racing after her son. The stone bounced off the top of the man’s head, causing him to stumble and loosen his grip on the child, who dropped to the ground.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.”
Graham barely looked at Tarin hugging her son as he barreled past, trying to catch up to an assailant that kept on running as though nothing had happened. He was moving pretty fast. He took a sharp left beyond a row of bushes, and Graham grasped the opportunity to take a flying leap over them. As he soared over the chest-high hedge, he could see the man in dark clothes, a black ball cap pulled low. He was so close he reached out with his arms, planning on snagging him as he went down. He was already congratulating himself on outwitting the man when the next thing he knew, his feet were snagged by the branches and his upper body was making a rapid descent to the ground. He tucked his shoulder in an attempt to pull himself into a roll.
“Uhhh.” He slammed down hard, the late maneuver only managing to avoid crashing on his face. Dazed, he laid there trying to push away the pain and orient himself.
“Graham?”
The guy’s getting away.
Struggling to his feet, he staggered a couple of steps as he looked in the direction the man had run, but he had disappeared. Graham limped around the bush that had taken him down. Tarin was holding her son tight but was slowly and carefully making her way toward him.
“You’re hurt.”
“Bruised. Nothing serious. Are you two okay?” The little guy was snuggled in tight, his eyes drooping. His thumb had been popped into his mouth. Graham didn’t blame him; he felt like doing the same thing. He shifted slightly only to have a sharp pain zip through his shoulder.
“He got away?”
“Sorry. Yeah. I was so close. Do you know him?”
“No idea.”
“His father?”
She shook her head adamantly. “No.”
“Let’s get out of here.” He walked her back to her vehicle and was watching her settle her son in the car seat in the back.
“Good arm by the way. Thank you for saving Chance.” She straightened, emotions clogging her words.
“I’ve thrown a few baseballs.” He didn’t bother to tell her they had been imaginary ones in a Wii baseball game. His mom would be happy to know the hours he’d spent on there had finally been put to good use.
Tarin looked around as though expecting someone to jump out at her.
“Come on.”
They discussed the safest way to leave opting for him to follow at a short distance to spot anyone else following her. A few minutes later after a meandering route, they pulled into her driveway.
“Come in.”
He followed her around the side of a simple two-story frame house. She unlocked a side door and they headed down a flight of stairs.
“I’m going to put him to bed. Then I’ll be out.” She indicated for him to make himself at home.
He walked to the long narrow window. He surveilled the immediate area before pulling the curtains tight.
“I don’t know what I would have done.”
He turned to face her. She was trying to be brave but her face was scrunching up as she struggled to dispel her emotions. He strode across the room and pulled her into his arms. Perhaps the fact that she didn’t fight him was indicative of her fear weighed on her. She remained so still that at first he wasn’t aware she was crying. She sobbed like no one he’d ever witnessed. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, her body trembled. But there was no deep, heartbreaking bawls or wails. There was quiet snuffling, yet he knew her anguish was bone-deep. The vibrations shaking her core were so contained but so intense, like a seething vault of agony. She was imploding rather than exploding.
After a while she pulled away, head down, eyes avoiding his. “Thanks.” She walked across the small open room to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out a jug and then opened a cupboard and got down some glasses.
Barely glancing at him, she asked, “Juice?”
So polite, so controlled. Silently he crossed the room. “Please.”
Juice spilled across the counter as she jerked back in reaction to his rapid approach. He hadn’t meant to scare the crap out of her; he’d simply wanted to close the distance between them. She reached in the sink for a dishcloth but he grasped her hand first.
“Forget all of that. Talk to me. Who was that and what’s going on? His dad? Is this connected to the man shooting at you the other day?”
She walked around him and across the room to sit on the couch. As he joined her, she delicately backed away so a full cushion remained between them.
“No. I don’t know. That man wasn’t Chance’s father but could he be behind it? Maybe. Probably. Not the shooting though.” She looked away.
Not only could he feel her embarrassment but her cheeks flooded crimson. In contrast her hands were white, clasped tightly yet primly in her lap.
“Are you safe here? Does he know where you live?”
She shook her head but he noticed the slight hesitation. She wasn’t sharing much. Instinct told him something of significance was happening, something she was obviously reluctant to share.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I think it was the same man I saw at a service station earlier today. I can’t be sure. I didn’t get a good look at him.” She stood and walked to the window, lightly touching the closed curtain.
“You should report it.”
She nodded.
“Really, that’s all you’ve got? Your son was almost abducted and you just nod, whimper a bit and act like everything is okay? ‘Would you like some juice?’” He mimicked in falsetto.
She whirled on him, eyes flashing. “Go to hell. Who do you think you are? You don’t know a thing about me or how I’m feeling.”
“You’re right; I don’t because you’re as about as emotionally real as a Barbie doll.”
She strode up to him and slammed her fist into his chest. “I’m so damn sick of people thinking they know me. Be a nice young lady, Tarin. Sit quiet, Tarin. Be ruthless, Tarin. Be a woman, Tarin. You’re my wife, Tarin, that should be enough for you. You all think you’re so goddamned smart. I’m sick of it.”
“Is that all you’ve got? You hit like a little girl.” It was all the goading she needed. He allowed her to use him as a punching bag, but he wasn’t even sure she knew she was pounding at him. She was still so controlled, so ineffectual.
“Damn you.” She slammed him once more before turning away.
He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from leaving. She glared at him. He snagged her gaze, refusing to let her go. A flood of emotions coursed through the depths of her eyes but when he saw the slight widening, the flaring of her nostrils, he knew she was attracted to him. But he was shocked when she nearly launched herself at him. He staggered back under the sudden weight but quickly wrapped his arms around her. Her lips found his, her hands tangled in his shaggy mop of curls.
Do I have enough brain cells firing to stop this?