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“The beach scene in your living room?”
She nodded. “Bethany did it about two years ago.”
A low whistle filled the car. “Wow, she’s good.”
“I know. I tried to get her to take some serious art classes, but she said she wanted to focus on the karate.” Lacey shrugged. “So I let her. I certainly wasn’t going to force her to paint if she didn’t want to.”
A finger reached out and traced her ear. She shivered and locked her eyes on his. He leaned toward her. “I’ve missed you.”
His words pulverized her heart. How she’d longed to hear him say that. She’d missed him so much. Lacey leaned in to him, wanting to be in his arms and have him tell her everything was going to be okay. That they could forget the past and move forward into the future together. That everything bad they’d experienced didn’t matter.
But he still believed Daniel’s lies about her.
She pulled back.
But it did matter. And the past was bulldozing it’s way right into the present. “Mason, I want to…”
The back windshield shattered and Lacey screamed as Mason grabbed her left arm and yanked her down.
CHAPTER NINE
Mason felt the car shudder. Lacey’s scream echoed in his ears. “Stay down and call 9-1-1!”
He grabbed the handle and flung the door open, rolling to the ground and reaching for the weapon he’d strapped on early that morning. He winced at the pull in his still-healing shoulder but ignored it.
His eyes scanned the parking lot and he noticed the other car’s occupant on the phone. He wanted to yell at the man to get his head down. Instead, he searched for the shooter.
“Mason!”
Lacey’s shout warned him.
He whirled to see a figure dart through the trees toward the back of the parking lot. Mason bolted after him. “Freeze! U.S. Marshal!”
Of course the figure kept going.
And so did Mason.
Through the parking lot, dodging the employees craning to see what’s going on. “Get back inside!”
They scrambled to do so, understanding the seriousness of what was happening. Mason pushed himself faster, desperate to catch the person who could possibly lead him to his daughter.
The man, dressed in dark jeans, a black T-shirt and a baseball cap, skirted a Dumpster and headed past another alley. Mason stayed on him, thinking he ran pretty well for someone with a limp. But Mason was gaining on him.
He followed him across a four-lane road and into another stand of trees.
Almost there. Mason felt his satisfaction surge as he closed in, reached out to snag the man’s shirt—and felt his foot hook under an exposed root.
He landed on the rough ground with a grunt and felt fire shoot through his left shoulder.
The pain stunned him for only a second, but by the time he bolted to his feet, the man was gone. Tromping in the direction the suspect had fled, he looked to the right, then the left.
Nothing.
Mason pulled up and bent double, hands on his knees. Again, his eyes swept up one side of the street then down the other.
Where had he gone?
Buildings lined the street. Cars passed him. Normality surrounded him.
