Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [28]
“Thought you might want to go out for drinks tonight. Or sushi,”
Erin suggested. “You’re not working, are you?”
“Got the night off, so just let me check my social calendar,” Jules said dryly. Her lack of social life since her divorce was well known, and Erin had been privy to the entire Peri/Sebastian debacle. Once upon a time, they’d all been friends.
“How about six-thirty at Oki’s?”
Jules glanced at the digital clock on the monitor of her computer.
Four twenty-seven. Just enough time for a run, a shower, and, if the gods of Seattle traffic were on her side, the trip into downtown during rush hour. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. Gerri’s already on board. Gotta run. I’m getting the evil eye from my manager.” She hung up.
Jules wasted no time. She stripped off her jeans and sweatshirt, threw on her running gear, and was on the jogging path just as the streetlamps began to glow. Dusk came early this time of year, and with the oppressive cloud cover, gloom had settled deep into the city. A heavy mist seeped through her clothes. Though the temperature was somewhere near fifty degrees, Jules broke a sweat within five minutes. Cars and trucks sped past, tires humming through puddles, engines rumbling, windows fogging. Jules slogged through the puddles and around pedestrians and dogs, tackling the hill that marked the midpoint of her circuit. She was breathing hard, and her waterproof running shoes were leaking. Just another couple of miles, she told herself as she angled toward the university, through the skeletal trees shivering as the rain thickened.
She thought of her father and the night he died, how she’d found him in the den, the weapon that had taken his life lying in a thick red puddle beside him. Or had it been still in his body? Her dreams were confusing and sometimes her memory jumbled. Some people had speculated that Edie had killed him, the man she’d married twice.
Others suspected that nineteen-year-old Jules, who had picked up the knife when she found him, had used it to stab him viciously. Even Shay had been a suspect, but the footprints outside the house and the open door that appeared forced had convinced the police that the intruder who had stolen Rip Delaney’s wallet had also taken his life.
The intruder had never been found, and though the cloud of suspicion over the family had slowly lifted, life had never been the same.
No amount of counseling sessions or antianxiety pills had stopped the horror of the recurring dream that robbed Jules of sleep, creating debilitating migraines that had often forced her to spend days in bed.
Even after five damned years.
So she ran.
Every day.
Rain or shine.
Taking a respite only if the snow was ankle-deep or the sleet so severe that ice froze solid on the streets.
It kept the demons at bay and helped with her sleep.
She rounded a final corner and sprinted downhill. From this vantage point, she usually caught glimpses of the lake, but not today. It was too foggy, too dark.
By the time she reached her doorstep, she was breathing hard and covered in sweat. She leaned down to stroke Diablo, then flew through the shower, washed her hair, and twisted it into a topknot. Slapping on some lipstick, she called it good.
On her way out the door, she grabbed her cell phone and tucked it into her pocket. Through some searching on the Internet, she’d found Lauren Conway’s parents’ number in Phoenix. She’d phoned twice, left a short message each time, but so far her calls hadn’t been returned. She figured if anyone had the dirt on Blue Rock, it would be the Conways. Either they’d want to discuss their missing daughter, or they’d shut Jules down, but she had to give it a try. She hadn’t been so lucky at tracking down Maris Howell.
Yet.
She locked the door behind her, then headed for the Volvo. The car’s windows began to fog as she wended her way toward the restaurant near Pike Place Market. When she turned onto Pine Street, she lucked out and spotted an older Cadillac vacating a spot. She nosed into a parking space, glad