"I love you."

"You shouldn't say that, you know."

"I can't help it." Twisting in the bed, Spencer rolled on top of her naked lover and pinned her in place. "And I don't want to share you anymore."

Elena reached up and pulled her down, tucking her dark head to the side so she wouldn't have to look into the insistent blue eyes. "You know I'm no good at that kind of stuff, Spence."

Elena Diaz could give her heart easily to the likes of Spencer Rollins, but she knew herself well enough to know that sooner or later another pretty lady would turn her head. She wouldn't risk hurting someone she loved by making promises she couldn't keep.

With the realization that they couldn't go forward, Spencer had taken the painful step to end what they had. She wanted more out of love than what Elena could offer, and she couldn't ask her to be someone else. In the end, they'd forged an unbreakable bond of friendship and trust, and they'd finally gotten past the lustful pull.

It was hard, though, for each woman not to wonder what would happen if the door between them were to open again.

CHAPTER 3.

REDUCED SPEED AHEAD.

It seemed like every time she'd start to gather speed on the outskirts of a small town, another sign would appear to announce the next wide spot in the road. Ruth was firm in her resolve to stick to the back roads, though. Practically all of the major highways running through New England were toll roads, and that meant stopping, being seen, and worse, being caught on a surveillance camera in a car no one would otherwise recognize as hers.

The blonde-haired child beside her was asleep on a soft pillow with a light blanket pulled up to her chin. They had talked and laughed and sang until almost ten o'clock when Ruth could hear the tired lilt in Jessie's voice. Even with the back seat folded down to make room for all of their things, the passenger seat reclined a good bit, and leaning it back had been the impetus for the little girl to finally call it a night.

Welcome to Sturbridge, Massachusetts!

At last, Ruth could pull onto an interstate without worrying about tolls. From what she could tell on the map, I-84 would take her across the corner of New York and into Pennsylvania, where she could pick up something going south. She hadn't quite worked out where they were headed, assuming that if she didn't know, no one else would be able to figure it out either.

All she knew for sure was that she wanted to start a new life far away from Madison, Maine. She wanted her daughter to have a happy childhood, and to be safe from the angry man her father had become. Ruth tossed her head in disgust at that thought. Skip Drummond had always been angry; no one could please him, and everything he'd ever done was in order to manipulate someone else.

But Ruth couldn't lay all the blame for this mess at her ex-husband's feet. No, she had to own up to her own mistakes, of which she'd made plenty.

The Fergusons were not well off by anyone's standards, but they had always gotten by. Ruth's father Roy had worked his whole life at the paper mill, bringing home a check just big enough to cover their bills, but not to provide many extras. Still, her mother Mildred had been resourceful, making many of their clothes at home, and finding ways to save here and there for coats and shoes or something new for the house.

They were a close-knit family; Roy insisted on it. Ruth, named for the faithful Biblical figure, was expected to spend most of her free time at home, even when her high school friends begged her to come along to football games or parties. Roy and Mildred favored a strict setting for their daughter, and guarded her virtue by refusing her permission to go out with boys until she reached the age of seventeen years old. Even then, the young men in question were scrutinized and given a rigid set of rules.

Her parents were angry and dismayed when Ruth graduated high school and soon after moved out into her own small apartment, taking a clerical job at the Bank of Madison. The division deepened when it became obvious that she'd abandoned the lessons of her upbringing and started going out to dance clubs and bars in Augusta with her new friends and coworkers.

Skip Drummond was her only real boyfriend of any duration, and he turned out to be the one she'd saved herself for. Skip's family owned the area's biggest home appliance and electronics store, and his future was carved out in retail before he was even born. Four years ahead of her in school, the 24-year-old was considered quite a catch in this small town. He was good-looking and popular; he played in all the sports leagues at the recreation center; and he liked to go out and have a good time.

They'd been dating for about six months when Ruth made her first real mistake. She got pregnant. Though she'd been pretty faithful with her diaphragm, the doctor had told her it would be more effective if her partner used condoms as well, and Skip wasn't about to do that. After all, he'd argued, he wasn't the one at risk of getting knocked up.

So there she was, ten weeks along with a boyfriend who was furious, parents who were inconsolable, and a will to have her baby and raise it, no matter what anybody said or thought. The only other person who seemed to like the idea was Skip's father, Roland Drummond, Sr., for whom Skip was named. It was time, Roland thought, for Skip to settle down if he was to be entrusted with more responsibility at the store. A wife and a child on the way just might do that, he thought, and he encouraged the couple to take the step. To sweeten the pot, he offered his son a raise and a manager's post at the store, all conditional on his becoming a family man.

Accepting a proposal that had been coerced in the first place was Ruth's second mistake. Even as they sat in the car after they agreed to go through with it, there was no joy, no anticipation, no resolve. Instead, there was just a shared sense of resignation that they had both lost control of their lives.

The little girl shifted in the seat beside her, bringing Ruth back to the present. Almost an hour had passed since she'd pulled onto the highway, and she was making pretty good time. She'd spent a lot of hours mired in her past, but that was all going to change soon. Skip Drummond and his cold, overbearing parents wouldn't be part of their lives anymore. For that matter, neither would her own parents, but Ruth couldn't bring herself to care about that. All she needed was this precious child beside her.

Living with Skip had been difficult right from the beginning. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't feel his resentment about the trap his father had laid for his life. But everything that bothered Ruth about her new role of wife vanished when Jessie Riane Drummond was born. Being a mother was simply the greatest thing she'd ever done. For the first time in her life, Ruth really liked herself. She was proud of the way she took care of her daughter, and excited about spending time with other young mothers and learning the best ways to do things. Best of all, she was starting to feel like the events of the last year and a half - getting pregnant and getting married - weren't at all the trap she thought they'd be. Skip liked showing Jessie off to his family and friends, and he carried her proudly everywhere they went. He didn't seem to want much to do with home tasks, but Ruth wrote that off to Skip being the typical husband her friends had described.

It wasn't until Jessie started teething that Ruth really started to understand how Skip felt about their daughter.

"Will you shut her the fuck up!"

Ruth practically leapt out of bed to go see about Jessie in the night. Picking the child up from her crib, she shushed her to calm her down. It always comforted the baby to be held, even if her mouth still hurt.

Skip was growing increasingly agitated by Jessie's everyday behavior, none of which was out of the ordinary for a ten-month-old. He complained about her crying, he hated having baby things in every room, and he even ridiculed her in her high chair for having baby food on her chin and hands. Not that Jessie could understand his cruel words, but it hurt Ruth badly to hear her husband speak to their daughter that way, and she asked him to stop. Mature guy that he was, he stopped interacting with her altogether, except when others were around.

"Why can't you get it through your head that she's a baby? She can't help the things she does any more than you could when you were a year old." she screamed one night when he'd gotten angry about Jessie pulling some magazines off the coffee table.

"Because I never wanted a baby, and I've got news for you, Ruth. I never wanted you either."

"Then why did you get married, Skip? Why didn't you just let me have Jessie all by myself? You think I needed you? I've got a little news for you too. I didn't, and I still don't." Ruth was past hurt. She was hopping mad. "And neither does Jessie!"

That was the first time she had seriously threatened to leave her husband, and looking back, Ruth wished she'd just done it that night. Jessie was only a year old, way too much trouble for a single father to deal with, especially one with little or no interest in the welfare of his child. It would have been an easy parting, and not walking then was what Ruth thought of as her third big mistake.

Instead, she'd hung around for another year, taking the insults and watching her husband go out alone at night. She didn't care if he wanted to go screw somebody else. She was long past wanting to have sex with him.

And then one night, everything changed forever when Ruth ran into the kitchen to find Skip towering over a screaming Jessie, his hand raised high and coming down hard on her backside. Ruth screamed too, and wedged herself between them to take the angry blows.

That night, she locked herself and Jessie in the child's room. The next day, she packed up everything that wasn't Skip's and returned to her parents' home with her daughter. They were none too thrilled to see her, and blamed her headstrong ways for bringing this on herself. The way Roy and Mildred saw it, Skip wouldn't feel the need to lash out like that if she were stricter with Jessie; and if she didn't provoke her husband with her sassy mouth.

Ruth stayed two weeks with her parents, quickly growing tired of the constant berating. When she found a small furnished house for rent, she called the landlord and made arrangements to move in right away. She and Jessie lived there for almost a year. It was the happiest time Ruth had ever known.

Her fourth big mistake was underestimating the impact her leaving would have on the community gossipmongers, and the subsequent reflection on Drummond Appliances. Roland Drummond was not going to have his son's standing in the community harmed by the vicious lies Ruth was telling about how Skip had beaten them both in a fit of rage. Skip had told his father a completely different story, and Roland was insistent that his son do something to squelch these rumors.

Ruth filed for divorce, seeking permanent custody of Jessie, and asking the court that Skip be allowed visitation only under close supervision. She doubted he'd ever want to see Jessie at all, but she'd insisted on the minimum recommended amount of child support so that her daughter would have some of the things growing up that she'd been denied.

And her fifth and biggest mistake of all was thinking that her storefront lawyer could handle the divorce transaction. She'd expected her ex-husband's objections to be about the financial settlement and she was prepared to make concessions to end this miserable stage of her life. She was totally blindsided when he stood to ask for full custody of their daughter, attacking her fitness as a parent.

"She's got problems of her own, your honor. Serious problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"Well, sometimes I'd come home from work at night and poor little Jessie hadn't had a bite to eat all day. She'd be wearing dirty diapers and still be in her pajamas. I'd bathe her and put her in fresh clothes. I was worried she'd get sick being dirty and soiled all the time. It got better after Ruth went back to work, because she had to clean her up to take her to day care. She wanted people to think she was such a great mother, but it wasn't like that at all at home."

"That's not true!" Ruth was incredulous at the pack of lies pouring out of Skip's mouth.

"You will control yourself, young lady, or I will hold you in contempt of this court. You've already had your chance to speak," Judge Howard admonished from the bench.

The biggest blow, though, came when Roy Ferguson stood and told the judge that he believed Jessie would be better off in her father's care. Ruth had always been uncontrollable, he said, and he feared that his granddaughter would be neglected or allowed to run wild and do whatever she pleased.

Her father's testimony had sealed her fate, and without even asking her to answer Skip's charges, Judge Howard granted the divorce and awarded full custody of Jessie to a father that couldn't stand her. Ruth was allowed two hours of visitation every other weekend, but only in the presence of a social worker.

When three-year-old Jessie was ripped screaming from her that day, Ruth felt as though her very heart had been cut out. And the triumphant look on Skip's face boiled her blood. In that moment, she understood completely why some women simply killed their husbands in their sleep.

In no time at all, the social worker assigned to oversee their visits saw the truth about Jessie Drummond and her mom, and she argued to have visitation extended to two full weekends a month, with the restrictions loosened to "monitored" rather than "supervised." Those weekends had become Ruth's only lifeline.

From one of Skip's cousins, Ruth learned a little about her daughter's life with the Drummonds. Jessie spent most days with her paternal grandmother, a stern woman who resented having to care for a small child all day. From what Ruth could gather, the little girl was confined to a single room for most of the day, and rarely allowed to play outside. In the evenings, she usually played alone in her room while her father watched television. Skip hated having to stay home so much, but his dad convinced him that it would look bad for him to be out when people around town knew that his daughter depended on him so much.

What a crock!

Ruth pushed the thoughts of Skip out of her head again. He wasn't going to be part of their lives anymore. Tonight, she'd taken the biggest risk of her life, kidnapping her own daughter and running away with no intention of setting foot in Madison, Maine ever again. And so far, everything was coming together just as she'd planned it.

Last Monday, she'd driven to Augusta after work to have a look at the Taurus, a 1989 model that she'd seen in the Auto Trader as for sale by owner. She'd taken out the $3,400 from her savings account, and managed to buy the car for only $2,000 on the stipulation that she could pick it up on Thursday. So last night, she'd taken a bus back to Augusta and gotten a cab to the man's house, getting home late and packing it with practically everything she owned before parking it around the corner.

After settling her bills and selling the Saturn, Ruth now had about $7,500 in cash. That would have to last her and Jessie until she got a job and got back on her feet.

The weary driver turned her attentions back to the road signs. It was almost midnight and she was sixty miles from Waterford, Connecticut. She needed to start looking for a gas station, and cup of coffee would really hit the spot.

CHAPTER 4.

"SO WHO'S YOUR new girlfriend?" Elena teased as her ex-lover came into the kitchen to pour another soda. Spencer wasn't much of a drinker.

"Her name is Kaitlyn."

"Kaitlyn! That sounds so pre-teen."

"She says she's twenty. What do you think?" Spencer had locked eyes with the young woman as soon as she walked in the door. Hanging out mostly in the kitchen, she was on hand when Kaitlyn came in for her first drink, and they'd had the chance to meet. Throughout the evening, Spencer circulated, helping to keep things picked up so Elena wouldn't have a mess the next morning. But after each pass through the house, she would return to the pretty brown-eyed blonde for more flirting.

"Yeah, I'd say it's possible. But I'd check her ID if I were you," she joked. "Hell, even if she is that old, thirteen years is a pretty big age difference."

"Well, if I was looking to get married or something, I'd be inclined to agree."

"Oh, I see. So you have something a little more frivolous in mind?"

Spencer grinned mischievously. "Maybe."

"Think you'll need any technical advice?" That jibe was in reference to Spencer's earlier remark.

"No, I think it'll come back to me," she smirked, sauntering out of the room with exaggerated cockiness.

Fifteen minutes later, Spencer retrieved her helmet from the floor of the hall closet. Bidding her host goodnight with a knowing grin, she walked out to find the young woman waiting at the foot of the steps.

"Should I just follow you?" Kaitlyn had her keys out already. "I really don't want to leave my car here overnight."

"Sure. My bike's right here. I'll pull out and wait." Spencer leaned forward for their second kiss. The first one had come on the back porch, and it clearly signaled where the rest of their evening was headed.

As she watched the cute blonde disappear down the sidewalk, her cell phone jingled in the left breast pocket of her denim jacket, bringing an immediate smile. It was probably Elena calling to tell her not to do anything she wouldn't do, which meant she could do anything she wanted.

But it was Henry.

"Hey, what's up?" She hadn't given Margadon a second thought since she'd left.

"Spence, you're not going to believe this!" he said excitedly. "You've gotta come look."

"No way! I'm about to get laid." She had no secrets from her longtime friend. "What'd you find?"

"Somebody's fucked with it, alright, just like you said. It's backing out the cytokines."

"What do you mean backing out? How?" She'd never heard Henry this agitated.

"It's in the global. It bumps the number for the report, but then it takes it back out in a hidden field. And the cost, too."

"You're not making any sense, pal. We looked at the global. There wasn't anything wrong with it."

"It's not calling ours, though! It's a whole different one, Spence."

"Whoa, that can't be right. How would it do that?"

"Look, you have to come see it. I already called James. He's on the way in."

"You called James?" It had to be serious for Henry to actually call their boss.

"This is a big fucking deal! Somebody's fucking with the formula for Kryfex, and it looks like they're skimming the books."

Just then, a set of headlights pulled up behind the motorcycle and stopped. Spencer looked at her watch. It was almost midnight. So much for servicing her libido, she thought miserably. She might be able to make another date with Kaitlyn, but that would require an actual date, and that wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind with the young blonde.

"Okay, I'll be there in about half an hour. Prop the back door open, will ya?"

Spencer doubted seriously that Margadon would appreciate her sacrifice tonight, but as Henry had said, it sounded like a pretty big fucking deal, and she and her partner were right in the middle of it. A half hour after the call, she swiped her card at the automatic security gate at the company's headquarters, entered the parking lot and jumped the curb to park the big bike on the sidewalk by the fire escape. As promised, Henry had slid a piece of paper between the door latch and the cutout so she wouldn't have to walk all the way around to the main entrance. Employees had gotten no fewer than half a dozen notices warning them against this practice, but everyone thought it was silly. Even with the fire escape open, the building was still secure, since a key was needed to access each floor.

When she exited the stairwell onto the third floor, the programmer stopped in confusion. Except for the emergency lighting and red exit signs, the entire floor was dark, including the glass office on the other side that she shared with Henry. Spencer walked around the hallway that surrounded the cubicles in the center of the large room. Over the top of the cubicle walls, she could see two people in her office, but couldn't imagine why they were standing there talking to each other in such hushed tones, and in the dark, no less.

She was seconds from calling out to them when she realized that neither was Henry. Stopping in her tracks, she listened to what sounded like a frantic conversation.

"Can't you just delete it?"

"This is our code," James explained. "We need this for things to work. I don't know how he found it, but I have to move it off his doc list."

"Well, do it!" the stranger ordered impatiently.

Spencer stepped closer to the office and peered through the window to see what they were doing. To her horror, she saw Henry lying on his side at their feet; his red eyes open in a blank stare, a power cord knotted around his neck. A wave of nausea gripped her as the reality of the awful scene sunk in. Henry was dead.

Shaking violently, Spencer stepped back from the window, tiptoeing backwards down the hall toward the fire escape.

"We need to get this cleaned up," the stranger's voice said.

When she rounded the corner and ducked below the level of the cubicles, Spencer just missed being seen by the mysterious man as he stepped out into the center area.