“All right, panelists,” he began, “here’s your next question. What did 100 people say that Americans value most in their lives?”
“Safety and freedom,” Erin answered as she turned to leave. She caught Mac’s gaze. His probing look after their quiet ride back home made her wonder again what he and Dave Kendall had talked about.
Tearing her gaze away, she gave Christie permission to stay with Papa Amos and Aunt “Soapie” for a while longer, then said her goodbyes.
Mac followed her out, his voice cool. “Your answer surprised me.”
“Answer?”
“To that quiz-show question.”
“Oh?” she returned, nervous now and feeling the tension between them growing. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. You came up with ‘safety and freedom’ pretty fast. Don’t you think stability is just as valuable? Particularly with a small child?”
He was angry now, and Erin increased her strides over the grass to the dirt lane, realizing that she’d had good reason to dread this talk of theirs.
“So tell me. Do you plan to keep dragging Christie from state to state for the rest of her life?”
Erin kept walking. “Why are you getting into this again?”
“I know you love your gypsy lifestyle, but it’s a bit immature, isn’t it? Grown people make sacrifices for their children.”
Erin whirled on him, suddenly furious that he’d think for a moment that Christie wasn’t her number-one priority. “You have no idea what kind of sacrifices I’ve made for her!” she shouted and continued walking.
“Then tell me!” he shouted back. His hand shot out to clamp her upper arm and spin her around.
Instinctively Erin dipped at the knees and raised her free hand to protect her face.
The look on his face was dumbfounded shock, and she straightened immediately.
Mac released her. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.” He scanned her face, and sick at heart, Erin looked away. “Has someone hurt you before? Your husband?”
Erin parted her lips to answer, but suddenly she was too humiliated to admit to the man she loved that she—an educated woman—had allowed herself to be manipulated into a relationship of fear. She was even more ashamed to admit that she hadn’t been able to protect Christie from Charles’s rage. She quickened her steps toward Mac’s log home.
Swearing beneath his breath, Mac strode after her, his displeasure building again as Dave Kendall’s words banged around in his mind. “All I know is, her name’s not Terri Fletcher. It’s Erin Fallon.”
“You’re positive?” Mac had said.
“Absolutely. I did a routine check when I picked her up on a brake-light violation. I always remember the pretty women I stop.”
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he swiftly came abreast of her again. “I can’t take much more of this,” he muttered. “We’ve made love. Twice. We’ve been as close as any two people can be. Haven’t I earned your trust by now? You’re the most secretive woman I’ve ever known—and after Audra, that’s saying something. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Mac, please, this isn’t any of your business.”
“I’m making it my business. Know what I’ve been doing the last few days? Checking you out. I know about the money in Christie’s drawer. Is it stolen? Is someone after you?”
Erin lashed out, tears stinging her eyes. “You know about the money? You have the colossal gall to rain all over me about ‘secrets’ when you’ve searched through my things?”
“It was necessary.”
“It was not necessary. It was an invasion of my privacy—that same privacy you swore you’d never breach. And I didn’t steal that money. It’s mine. I earned every last penny of it!”
She stormed up the stairs to his home, then stopped abruptly at the door. Turning around, she swiped angrily at her tears, pulled herself together and stared politely at him as he stood at the base of the steps. “Is this still my home for the next few hours?”
Mac felt himself turn to stone. “The next few hours?”
“Yes. We’ll be leaving in the morning. Amos doesn’t need me anymore.”
It took a moment for him to answer. Then he nodded gravely. “Yes, Erin. It’s still your home.”
Thoughts and emotions he couldn’t keep up with shot wildly through her gaze with his use of her given name.
“You need to stay away from me,” she blurted out, her voice trembling.
“Let me help you.”
“No! I don’t want your help!”
“Erin—”
“I mean it, Mac!” she shouted. “Just leave me alone!”
That did it. That was enough for him. “Fine. I will leave you alone.” What an idiot he’d been to think there could be a future with her. “You’re just like Audra, closed and deceptive. Well, no more. Have a good life, Terri—or Erin, or whoever the hell you are. I’m through trying to break down your walls. I just don’t have the energy for it anymore.”
Another shock hit Mac when he strode inside Amos’s place and heard his granddad and Sophie speaking in low tones in the kitchen. Curious, proceeding slowly through the hall, he picked up their conversation.
“…so I hope Davey Kendall kept quiet about it.”
“But you heard him call her by another name?”
“Fallon. She thought I was sleepin’ when he stopped her fer that brake light, but I heard him.”
“And that’s why you paid her in cash,” Sophie murmured.
From the doorway, Mac saw his grandfather nod. “I figured a check with the wrong name on it could git her in more trouble than she was already in.”
“Do you know what kind of trouble?” Sophie asked in quiet concern.
“Nope, but it can’t be anything easy.”
Incensed that everyone seemed to know more about her than he did, Mac walked into the kitchen. “Well, thanks a hell of a lot for telling me about this.”
Amos jerked in surprise, then his expression evened out. “Now don’t get yer blood up,” he warned, “and keep yer voice down. Christie’s colorin’ in the parlor.”
For Christie’s sake, he did lower his voice, but Mac’s frustration didn’t ebb. “You’ve known, all this time, and you never told me?”
“You didn’t want her here,” Amos retorted defensively. “You wanted Mildred Manning. If you’da known, you mighta run her off, and I liked her.”
“All right, but dammit, Granddad, why didn’t you say something when you saw the two of us getting closer? I had a right to know.”
“Because by then it was up to her t’ tell you,” Amos stated righteously.
Mac spun on his heel.
“Where you goin’, boy?” Amos trailed him to the door. “If you press her fer an explanation before she’s ready t’ give it, you’ll lose her.”
“I’m not going to her.”
“Well, thank the Lord fer that—not the way yer actin’ now, anyways. Whether you know it or not, you need that gal.”
“Right,” Mac muttered. “I need another Mata Hari in my life.” Letting the screen door bang shut behind him, he charged down the steps and across the grass to where his Cherokee was parked.
Roaring off, he headed toward town to see Dave Kendall about a woman named Erin Fallon who might or might not have been from Chicago. A woman he’d wanted so badly that he’d kept making excuses for her secrecy and silences to justify spending time with her.
A woman he’d fallen in love with.
Chapter 14
Heart pounding, Erin shut down the computer and rushed back to Christie’s room. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She’d already packed most of their belongings, but she’d stopped before tackling Christie’s things when she remembered she had to let Lynn know they’d be moving on again.
She hadn’t written a word.
Lynn’s reply to her earlier e-mail was on the screen when she booted up the computer.
Snatching Christie’s clothes f
rom the chest of drawers Mac had supplied, Erin stuffed them haphazardly into a plastic bag. Lynn had written:
I don’t know how or when it happened, because Jeremy and I just got back from spending a month with my parents in Oregon. But I’m sure someone’s been in my apartment, and I think that person has been accessing my e-mail. I’ve installed a firewall that should keep him out, but your note to me wasn’t protected, so there’s a chance someone knows where you are. Even I know your general location after reading about the place you and your friend visited.
I’ve tried to imagine another reason someone might want to read my correspondence, but I can’t—maybe because I keep remembering Charles’s rage after I testified against him at the custody hearing. He came by again after you left Maine—in a rage again, and determined to find you. Please, be careful! I’m praying for the two of you, and hoping this new man can make you happy.
Love always, Lynn
Erin’s heart continued to beat doubletime. E-mail. The blond man at the diner had mentioned e-mail. He’d also worn sunglasses.
One out of every three people you see here wears sunglasses, a voice in her mind countered sensibly, and half the world has e-mail. Those things mean nothing.
Not in and of themselves, Erin agreed, unwilling to dismiss the intuitive feeling gripping her. But when added to the stranger’s behavior…maybe.
Had the man been playing a role? Had he been trying to snatch Christie, then, when Erin balked, feigned that sheepish apology? In addition to that, the more she racked her mind, examining everything he’d said and done, the more certain she was that the father pushing his son on the swing had spoken English. She’d only heard a few words as she sat at the picnic table—distant chatter to a child. But why would a man use English with his son if he was more comfortable with Spanish?
Suddenly she knew she couldn’t wait until morning to leave.
A soft rap sounded at the door.
Wiping her eyes, Erin rushed to the side light to peer out, then unlocked the inside and outside doors. Her heart squeezed with love when Christie catapulted herself into her arms.
“I missed you, Mommy!”
“I missed you, too, sweetheart,” she murmured, lifting her and hugging her close. Erin’s watery gaze moved to Sophie, who stared back in surprise, then helpless sympathy. The older woman took in the suitcases and bags sitting on the floor near the door.
“You’re leaving,” Sophie said quietly.
Erin nodded. Now, more than ever, she had to distance herself from this family she’d come to love. If any of her assumptions were true, she and Christie were at risk, and by association, Mac and Amos were, too. Even if she was wrong about the man at the diner, Mac had washed his hands of her, and she couldn’t stay any longer, seeing the disillusionment in his eyes.
“Amos will be fine,” Erin said. “He has you and Mac, and more importantly, he has himself. He’s come a long way in the past five weeks. He doesn’t need me anymore.”
“And Mac?” Sophie asked hesitantly. “What about him?”
Erin’s throat constricted. “Mac will be fine, too.”
“Honey, I know he’s upset right now. But no matter what he says or how he acts, he cares—a lot more than he’ll even admit to himself.”
“Then that’s all the more reason for me to leave. I can’t give him what he needs.”
Erin saw Christie’s lower lip tremble, and she quickly reassured her. “Just more sniffles, honey,” she said with a smile. “Mommy’s fine.” She met Sophie’s eyes again, and reluctantly told another half lie. She needed to expedite their departure, but she couldn’t leave without letting Amos know she would contact him. “I should finish packing if we’re going to leave in the morning. Please tell Amos we’ll say our goodbyes tomorrow.”
But they would do it by phone when they were on their way. She couldn’t do it in person and let him try to dissuade her. That could be dangerous for all of them. Or not. Again she wondered if there would ever be a time when fear and uncertainty didn’t rule her world.
Tears shone in Sophie’s eyes now, too. “Then I’ll say goodbye now since I’ll be heading for home.”
Sophie was leaving? “Then…Mac’s back?” A tiny part of her clutched that news as if there were still a chance for them.
“Not yet. He phoned a while ago to say he’d be home soon, though. But Amos has already turned in, so I’m leaving.” She forced a smile. “Tomorrow’s a big day for him. He’ll be a working man again, and he wants to be well rested.”
Sophie opened her arms and hugged them both. “Goodbye, honey. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I care about you. Godspeed.”
“You too, Sophie.”
Ten minutes later Erin had rocked Christie to sleep in her street clothes, settled her on the couch and was hurriedly finishing her packing. Mac’s accusing tone echoed in her mind as she tucked their cash inside Christie’s Barbie satchel. He’d thought she could be a thief—as well as a liar.
Again the thought of leaving him brought tears, but she blinked them back. She just hoped that someday he could forgive her for not being honest with him when she had the chance.
She’d left her van parked beside the house instead of pulling it up close to the porch steps, so Amos wouldn’t see her packing it. Now, leaving the porch light out and depending on the rectangles of light from the windows to see, Erin carried their two suitcases into the darkness, the night air cool on her stinging eyes.
How many people knew about her by now? she wondered, opening the back of the van and shoving the suitcases inside. Dave Kendall without a doubt. Sophie and Amos, probably. And some of the officers at the restaurant if Kendall and Mac hadn’t been discreet.
She hurried back to the house for their duffle bags, then retraced her steps quickly to the van.
If just one of those people told someone about her, the rumor mill would handle the rest. If Charles had sent someone to find them, they would be found soon.
Galvanizing herself, she returned to the house for Christie’s toys, clothes and sleeping bag and stuffed them in among the suitcases and duffels. She just needed to grab Christie’s portable bed rail and leave a note for Mac.
Tears welled again at the finality of what she was about to do. How could she leave him when she loved him so much it hurt to imagine a life without him?
The answer came quickly and gave her strength: because your daughter deserves to grow up happy and free.
Hurrying back inside, she checked to see that Christie was still asleep, then turned off the light in the great room and strode into Mac’s office for pen and paper. She had no idea what she would say, other than to thank him for his generosity and his kindness. Telling him about Charles wouldn’t accomplish a thing now.
The door creaked behind her just as she clicked on the small lamp over the desk. Terror splintered through her when Erin whirled around.
The blond man who stepped out from behind the door sent her a friendly smile as he pulled a garrote from his jacket pocket. “Hello again, Mrs. Fallon. Thanks for the directions this afternoon. But,” he added with an amiable shrug, “I decided not to go to Barstow after all.”
Mac sat in Amos’s driveway in his idling Cherokee, watching the lamps go out in his great room. She was going to bed. He rubbed the tension over his eyes.
He wanted to talk to her, yet he was still emotionally shackled by what he’d learned tonight. Why couldn’t she have trusted him enough to tell him about her past? Dammit, he would have understood. She’d made a mistake, but she’d rectified it.
From the information Kendall’d been able to gather, and the little Mille Kraft had reluctantly told him tonight, he’d pieced together a scenario that, by turns, made him sick and filled him with an overwhelming urge to pound Charles Fallon into the pavement.
Thank God Erin had drawn a sympathetic judge for the second custody hearing, and the creep had been denied any further contact with Christie.
What kind of man cou
ld slap his nineteen-month-old daughter—then knock her to the ground—for something as insignificant as spilling juice on his trousers? And amazingly, Fallon had had the ego to do it during a supervised visit in a park where others could see him!
Mac left his car and climbed the steps to Amos’s place, glancing at his house again—a house that had become a home with Erin and Christie in it. The smells of good things baking, the warmth of scented candles, the sounds of loving conversations and high pitched giggles had all combined to make a rambling dwelling into a place he wanted to spend time.
He had to convince her not to leave tomorrow morning.
Sighing, Mac went inside, then reached down to pull off his boots.
He jerked upright again when the intercom crackled, and Erin’s strident voice sliced through the air.
“—don’t care what you do to me, but please don’t let Charles have Christie. He’s a monster! He’ll hurt her! He’ll destroy her spirit and turn her into a—”
“Sorry. Nothing personal, but moneybags wants you dead and his daughter back. And I want the rest of my fee.”
Sheer terror razed Mac’s nerve endings as he bolted from the house and down the porch steps, praying for her life—praying for all of their lives because he had none without her.
He ran through the darkness like a man possessed, his heart thundering in his chest, the moon shedding only a glimmer of light through the trees. Then he was up the steps, crossing the porch and throwing open the screen door—not giving a damn for the noise he made.
Mac burst into the computer room just as a blond man threw Erin to the floor and yanked a gun from his waistband.
This wasn’t real! It was a scene from a movie!
Mac lunged for him in an all-out tackle, and they crashed into the storage boxes and fell to the floor, boxes toppling onto them. The intruder kicked and clawed at him, but Mac managed to stay on top. Then he angled a gun at Mac and fired twice!
Erin screamed as the shots went wild.
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