No Escape (Texas Rangers 2)

Jo rose, smoothing her hands over her slim skirt. “Sadie, you can stay.”

“Naw.” She scooped up two cookies and dropped them in the pocket of her jacket. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Sadie, please stay.”

The girl looked tempted but shook her head. “Not tonight. Next time.”

“Come back anytime. You can always find me through the church.”

Sadie tucked her hair behind her ear and Jo spotted a bruise on the side of her neck. “I know. See ya.”

Jo wanted so much to pull the girl back and demand that she remain. She wished like hell she could do more.

By the time the meeting with the girls ended, it was past nine. Once Jo had done a final check of the room and locked the door, she hurried to her car. She fired up the engine and checked her phone, which had been on silent during the meeting.

No call from Brody.

He’d likely figured that she’d give up and let him have his way. That she’d simply absorb her anger, fear and disappointment and pretend all was fine.

She’d long ago stopped being the girl “that went along.” She’d changed. Learned to take control. And now was no different. Brody would not ignore her this time.

Determined, she found Brody’s complex with her GPS and headed out. The complex was easy enough to find but at the entrance, there were rows and rows of mailboxes. She spent ten minutes searching for the name Winchester.

As she stood there a young girl came up, key in hand, and opened her mailbox. The girl, dressed in jeans and a heavy dark sweater, shrugged. “What’s the name? Maybe I can help you find him.”

“Winchester. Brody.”

“Don’t know the name.”

“He moved in a couple of weeks ago. Wears a cowboy hat.”

“A couple of weeks.” She paused to think. “There is the tall dude in building six. Not cute. Wears a cowboy hat.”

“That’s him.”

The girl nodded. “Building six is that way.”

Jo found the tension knotting in her stomach annoying. “Thanks.”

The girl cocked her head as she shuffled through her mail. “None of my business, but what did he do to piss you off?”

“I’m not mad.”

The girl arched a brow.

Jo swallowed a rebuttal. “He didn’t return my calls.”

“That would do it. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Her sensible heels clicked as she hurried back to her car and slid behind the wheel. Less than a minute later she was parked in front of building six.

She shut off the car, half wishing she’d stuck to phone messages. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a harried reflection. Her makeup had worn thin, leaving the spray of freckles over her nose exposed. Her lipstick had worn away as had her blush. “Good going, Jo. Toss in a couple of braids, and you are Pippi Longstocking.”

The temptation to fuss and preen nudged her fingers to the lipstick in her purse as a car parked beside her. She released the lipstick and let it fall back in her purse. Just her luck, she’d be applying makeup and Brody would knock on her window. Better to be bedraggled than to be caught fussing.

She trailed the guy who’d gotten out of his car to the building entrance. He swiped his card and she followed him inside, trying to look as if she belonged here. The man vanished into a first-floor apartment as Jo pretended to climb the stairs. When he was inside she did a quick scan of the doors. None bore the Winchester name, so she climbed to the next floor. Another glance and no Brody. But on the third floor three of the four doors had names while the last did not. It made sense he’d not advertise his name.

Taking a chance, she knocked on the door. For a moment she didn’t hear any sound or signs of life and thought the girl by the mailbox had given her an incorrect lead. She raised her fist to knock again when she heard steady steps making their way to the door seconds before it snapped open to Brody.

He wore a University of Texas T-shirt and faded jeans. Dark stubble covered his chin and fatigue had left his eyes bloodshot. He looked as if he’d just woken up.

“God, did I wake you?” Not two seconds into this conversation and an apology underscored her tone.

“I was reading files.” He stared at her, knowing damn well why she was here.

“I know you’re going to West Livingston tomorrow.”

“That’s right.”

“I want to go.”

“ No.”

The conviction behind the word took her aback. “What do you mean ‘no’? If you’re going to see Smith, I should be there.”

“ No.”

Heat stoked her temper. “I certainly do not need your permission.”

“You do need my permission. I’ve told the warden I’m coming and because I’m now handling an active investigation, I don’t want anybody interviewing my witness without me being present.”

Her fingers tightened around the shoulder strap of her purse. “Smith told me more in ten minutes than he told you in three years.”

He leaned on the doorjamb and slid his hands in his pockets. “What’s your point?”

“My point?” Damn him. A resident came out of his apartment, tossed an amused look at the two and then hurried down the stairs. Lowering her voice, she added, “I can help.”

“Maybe. Maybe you’re giving Smith one more chance to screw with you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Those dark circles under your eyes tell me you’ve not slept real well the last two nights.”

“I’m a bad sleeper.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

Unwanted color rose in her cheeks. “I’ve changed.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve grown up. We both have. But that doesn’t change the fact that Smith can get in your head and fuck you up. He said the answer is in you, and you haven’t let it go.”

“That’s not true.”

He leaned toward her. “It is. That’s what Smith does. He plants land mines in your brain, and it’s damn near impossible to let it go.”

“How did he screw with you?”

He studied her a beat as if he’d answer, but he shook his head. “No thanks, Doc. I don’t need a shrink.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Of course, you were. I’ve not met a shrink that can resist getting into someone’s head. He took a step back and put his hand on the door. “You’re not going to see Smith again, Jo. End of story.”

She opened her mouth to argue as his door shut hard in her face.

Blinking, she stood there for a moment, staring at the cheap door knocker glaring back at her. Tempted as she was to pound on the door and demand to be heard, she refused to lower herself. Brody Winchester might not want her to see Smith again, but he wasn’t the end-all, be-all. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

The digital clock read 11:59 P.M. when Jo slid into her bed and lay back on her pillow. She reached for the light and shut it off.

Light from the full moon shone in through plantation shutters, slashing patterns across her bedroom wall.

As much as her body craved a full night’s sleep, her mind buzzed with a fuzzy energy. Too tired to work and too awake to sleep.

Look deep inside yourself.

Smith’s words rattled in her head, stoking an unease in her that had her rising and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She buried her face in her hands and took several deep breaths.

He’ll get in your head. Brody’s words rattled like a jailer’s chain.

“He’s not in my head. You are in my head.” Groaning, she padded to the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water. She took a sip, peered in the glass, and then poured it out. From the refrigerator, she grabbed a half-full bottle of chardonnay and refilled the glass.

The wine tasted bitter. She’d cracked the bottle six months ago for Thanksgiving at her mom’s. The only wine drinker in the family, she’d been left after the festivities with a near full bottle that she’d shove