Cut and Run by Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online Page A

invitation without second thought, forced him to call Linda, the only person in whom he’d confided this past.
    Linda had been his one and only relationship in the past six years. A recently widowed wife of a dear friend of Larson’s, the two had shared a brief, but emotionally charged affair nearly three years earlier. Neither had entered the bed with any expectation beyond comfort and understanding, but both came away with a confidante for life. Linda often looked after Larson’s dog, Tanner, when he was away for work. He’d left her a message from New Jersey, and decided to follow up.
    She screened her calls, so he had to wait for her to call him back. She never asked him where he was or what he was doing.
    â€œTanner’s fine,” she began the call.
    He thanked her for taking care of the dog on such short notice and she replied that it was no problem. She lived in a huge house with a giant backyard, a holdover from the marriage she would eventually have to part with. But not yet. They both knew she wasn’t ready.
    He said, “You remember that guy who I knew would know my friend’s new persona?” No names. Nothing definite.
    â€œYeah?” She sounded worried. He’d expressed many times how pursuing this information might cost him his job.
    â€œI’m parked around the corner from his house.”
    â€œWell, that’s news.”
    â€œAm I crazy?”
    â€œOf course you are. Crazy in love, right?”
    â€œShe’s in danger.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œI don’t know if I’m just using this as an excuse or not, but here I am and I’m going through with it.”
    â€œUnfinished business.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œIf I could have had even five minutes with Jack . . . Well, you’ve heard this enough times.”
    Larson’s friend had died while lecturing at a small New England college. Not for the fee, but because they’d asked. Forty-three years old. Way too early.
    â€œI’m going to get my five minutes,” he said, although it rang of hollow confidence. His odds of tracking Hope down were limited by a very tall wall erected to prevent such contact.
    â€œRemember, you’re the one pursuing her. You’ve had time to process the reunion and what it means. She won’t have. Don’t judge her by her first reaction. Give her time to sort it out. It won’t be easy on her.”
    â€œIt won’t be easy on either of us.”
    â€œI’m happy for you.”
    He felt like an asshole, bringing Linda into this, rubbing her nose in his opportunity while she would have no such chance to reconnect.
    He said, “If and when I find her, it may be me making the proposal this time . . .”
    â€œI’ll give Tanner a good home” was all she said.
    He heard her voice tighten, could picture her at the kitchen table. He knew her patterns. He loved her as one of the good ones. They would miss each other.
    â€œWe’ll see,” he said.
    She told him to take care of himself, that she loved him, and as they hung up he realized how very close they’d become, how much he would miss her.
    Pulling back onto the road, the trees alive with color, Larson considered the career risk he took by coming here to the man’s private home. He wasn’t supposed to know the identity of any of the WITSEC regional directors, much less visit one unannounced. He had no idea what repercussions he might face.
    He pulled to a stop in front of an impressive, three-story Tudor. Either Sunderland or his wife came from a wealthy family, or she had a hell of a good job, because there was no way a person on Sunderland’s salary could afford this place. It sported four brick chimneys, leaded glass windows, and a fully landscaped yard—more like a park—including a slate walkway that led up to an arched-top wooden door that hosted a massive wrought-iron knocker in the shape of an ivy wreath.