Run Among Thorns by Anna Louise Lucia Read Free Book Online Page A

quiet, unassuming life. “They’re both alive. Both retired, live quietly in a typical white picket-fence deal in a typical small town in a typical state. I don’t see them all that often.”
    “Why not?” She almost sounded interested.
    He raised an eyebrow right back at her. She huffed, and the curls at her temples bobbed.
    “It was bad weather,” she said. “They were by themselves in the car. They had a blowout at seventy miles an hour on the motorway and lost control. Dad was driving. He was a good driver, but he just … ran out of luck.” Jenny shrugged slim shoulders. “They came off the carriageway and hit the buttress of a bridge.”
    The file had said it had happened almost three years ago now. Despite all that time, the loss was plain to see in her face. McAllister found himself wondering what sort of a relationship she’d had with her parents.
    Whose question was it? “When did you start to take special training, Jenny?”
    She looked up at him, frowning slightly. But that turned into a wry look, and she leant back in her chair, folding her arms. The checkered shirt he’d allocated her was hardly flattering, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to the enhanced cleavage now visible where the shirt fell open. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He hadn’t given her one.
    “I rather think we’re not talking about the conservation of the natural environment, are we, Kier?”
    “No.”
    “Nor improving footpaths and bridleways?”
    He only smiled.
    “And I don’t think we’re talking about the last training course I took?”
    The smile matured into a grin. Her gaze flicked away and then back to his. “You tell me,” he said.
    “It was a one-week residential course on community involvement with conservation projects.”
    “Not that training, no.”
    “Then the answer is never. I have never had special training of the type you mean,” she said.
    “And you expect me to believe that?” he asked derisively.
    She put her head to one side, twisting her mouth in an angry parody of a smile. “That’s another question, Mr. McAllister.”
    His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, conscious of a sense of satisfaction, when that simple movement made all her uncharacteristic cockiness evaporate, just like that. Jenny wouldn’t look at him again, and she set her hands in her lap and sat still.
    Scared Jenny was back.
    But he was conscious of something else, too. Regret? Had he liked that flash of rebellion that much? Guilt? Nonsense. He was only doing his job.
    Suddenly that wasn’t such a valid reason for doing this to people.
    He pushed the thought away, trying to think of questions to provoke her, to push her. Then he remembered it was her turn. “So, next question?”
    She took a breath. Expelled it. “Why don’t you see your parents often?”
    I don’t understand them.
    “We have nothing in common.”
    “Come on,” she chided.
    He looked over her head, towards the door, not seeing it.
    “They’re … mediocre. They’ve never really done anything real, never used all their resources, been the best they can be. They’ve never challenged their pathetic little precepts, found out what they can achieve. Dad turned down a partnership in a big, prestigious firm of architects to play around with cheap little small town projects. He gets excited about extending a porch. They’re living a half life.”
    Glancing back at her, he saw she looked shocked, and he was surprised to feel diminished by it. He wondered what on earth had possessed him to open his soul to her like that. She was a subject, for God’s sake, a job.
    His stomach churned. “So, where were they going when they piled into the bridge?”
    She hesitated, looking wary. “They were coming to visit me.”
    “So it’s your fault? You killed them?”
    Kier had never seen anyone go that white so fast. He kept his face blank as he watched her swallow, watched her hands grip the chair under her like she had at breakfast. Like she