“Jim Carrey.”
“Not a clue,” she admitted.
“Katharine Hepburn.”
“Loved Spencer Tracy.”
“Brad Pitt.”
“Um…”
Luke chuckled. “Okay, so you like older movies. Let’s try this. Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“Audrey Hepburn. Charade. Roman Holiday. Funny Face. Desk Set.” Amelia could see more names, but decided enough was enough. It felt so odd, having lists appear in her head. “To name a few.”
“Independence Day.”
“July Fourth.”
“Not aliens blowing the hell out of the Statue of Liberty?”
“They did?” Her eyes grew so wide he almost fell in them.
“In the movie.” Luke looked thoughtful. “I wonder if you watch television? Third Rock from the Sun?”
“Earth.”
“I’m going to take that as a no.” He thought for a minute, then said, “Let’s try politics.”
He took her through a list of names, state and national. She seemed to know names, but her own political convictions were out of reach. She knew the names of all the Presidents, in order, and recited enough of the Declaration of Independence to convince Luke she knew it all. She knew there’d been two world wars and knew dates and places from the War for Independence, but drew a blank on David Letterman and Jay Leno. She knew Leonardo da Vinci, but not Andy Warhol. Even worse, trying to figure out what she knew was pushing the boundaries of what he knew. He was pretty sure she knew how to split the atom and seemed to know a lot about the Big Bang theory and black holes. Also knew more than he did about biology.
Her beautiful eyes stared at him with the innocence of a child, while her mouth spouted facts and figures like a freaking computer. It was damn eerie. It was almost as if…no, he wasn’t going to go there.
“Go where?” Amelia asked.
He’d spoken out loud. Great. “Anywhere. Are you tired? I know I am.”
He stood up.
She stood up, too, her gaze opening him up like a laser.
“You were going to ask me something.”
He opened his mouth to deny it, but she stopped him with, “Don’t lie to me. Please. I hate lies.”
She said this with enough intensity to startle them both.
Luke hesitated, then said slowly, “I was thinking the word…android.”
“A robot in human form.” Her gaze was thoughtful, even a bit amused. “Is that what you think I am?”
“No, of course not.” He’d seen her bleed, for Pete’s sake. Had felt her heart beat against his chest, her warm breath on his face, her mouth—
He turned away from her. If this storm didn’t end soon, he was going to be in real trouble. Serious trouble. Deep, brown stuff up to his neck. Or higher.
“It would certainly explain some things, though not how I can bleed or urinate.”
Luke turned back. “See, that’s interesting.”
“What?” She took a step back.
“The words you use. Urinate instead of pee.”
“I’m…sorry.”
Luke rubbed his face. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just saying you’re kind of formal, almost scientific in the way you say some things. It’s…it’s a clue to who you are.” Not a good clue, but a clue.
“Maybe I like to read the encyclopedia and don’t get out much.” She grinned at him, looking so many years younger than him that he felt like a pervert. She sobered immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry about what happened. Almost kissing you, I mean.” The words burst out of him.
“Why? We’re both adults.”
“Are we? You look about eighteen right now.” He didn’t mean to sound grumpy, but he couldn’t help it. If the storm didn’t break soon, he’d be doing time in a snow bank. That’s when he realized the wind wasn’t howling outside anymore. He’d been so intent on Amelia, he hadn’t noticed the sun was breaking through the dark clouds moving slowly to the east. She knew her weather.
He saw her follow his gaze, saw her turn to look out the window.
“The storm’s moving off,” she said, her voice strangely expressionless.
She didn’t add, “And taking our safe haven with it.” She didn’t have to. He could feel the fragile peace leave, feel foreboding settle in its place. Even now, the trouble that had taken Amelia’s memory might be gathering itself for another try. He needed to get her to a place of safety.
“I should see if my truck will start.” He found he was shifting from one foot to the other, like a high school kid asking for his first date. He started toward the door, then stopped.
“I’ll gather up my things.” For a minute she stared at him as her eyes turning old again as fear bloomed in their depths. Then she turned away from him, her shoulders back, her head erect.
If she’d been older, he’d have fallen in love with her right then. He didn’t. But if—
SIX
Larry, a tough and intense man of Welsh ancestry, put the chopper in the air as soon as the wind died down enough to risk it. He’d noted their coordinates when the Knight woman had jumped out of the chopper and headed in that direction as directly as he dared. He still couldn’t believe she’d done it. Gutsy. Stupid, but gutsy. He’d freelanced for Grady long enough to see some pretty amazing things, but this took the prize. Of course it wouldn’t mean jack to Grady if he came back without her.
It had been a lucky break for him when she came boiling out of the hospital as if she had a rocket up her ass. She’d been so upset, she hadn’t been able to find her keys in her purse. Didn’t hear him behind her. Didn’t struggle long either, not after he stuck her in the neck with Grady’s fancy knockout shit. He’d made sure they took her purse—which is all they had of her now, and he pretty much regretted it. Her beeper and cell phone hadn’t shut up until he turned them off. He’d thought about having one of his guys drive off in the car but decided against it when a bunch of nurses came out the door. Who knew what a bunch of women might remember?
Only—Grady’s shit should have lasted longer. Had he given her the full dose? He’d pulled the needle out when she went limp because she’d been lighter than he’d expected. Maybe her lights went out too quick? She’d been so gone, he hadn’t bothered to tie her up. Grady’d kick his ass for that, but he’d been trying not to call attention to them. The bound and gagged tended to do that. And then he forgot when they got her on board the chopper, because once again they were trying not to be around long enough to attract attention and to beat the storm.
It surprised them all when she suddenly came to life. Gave Hickey a respectable and well aimed thrust to his nose that broke it and he fired his weapon inside the chopper. Not smart, but no harm except for another hole in the side. Got Bigsy in the balls with her hiking boot, then dived out the door before he got his wits about him. He’d had to leave Bigsy behind this morning. Couldn’t trust him alone with the girl, if they did find her alive. He wanted to kill her for putting his future children at risk. Bigsy was an optimist. Larry hoped he was right, that Hickey hadn’t hit her.
Be a long shot if she was still breathing, but if she survived the fall, she might have managed to find one of the cabins that dotted the area. That’s what he was hoping for. She’d fought to escape them, maybe she’d fight as hard for her life.
It had seemed like such an easy snatch-and-transport to the camp, but no, here he was, fighting the wind left behind by the east-moving storm, and trying to find a needle in a damn snow stack.
“We’ll put down in that clearing and see if we can turn up her body!” he shouted to Hickey.
Hickey lowered the binoculars he was using to scan the area and nodded.
“This the spot where she went out?” he yelled.
“Dead on,” Harry said, hoping he wasn’t being prophetic. He pointed at a huge pine tree with several newly broken branches as they sped by it.
He circled the area, using the whirling blades to blow away some of the snow from
the clearing and from the path they’d have to take back to the tree. Didn’t want to dig through more than he had to. The snow fall had been heavy. In a moment, they were on the ground.
Larry checked his pockets for more of Grady’s sleep shit, then grabbed a Luger and a long pole to prod the snow with. Outside the chopper, they both pulled on snowshoes and goggles. The sun was killer bright now that the storm moved off. Even with the path he’d cleared, it wasn’t easy. Hickey puffed and cursed with each step.
“Grady wants her alive,” Larry said, “but alive just means not dead. We can blame any bruising on her jump.”
Hickey grunted in what might have been satisfaction. It was hard to tell. He was so winded, he was puffing like an old woman. So much for all their “training” at the camp.
When they reached the tree, they prodded all around it with their poles, but nothing felt right. Something glinted in the sun a few feet higher than Larry could reach. He climbed up and liberated the glasses she’d been wearing when she went out. Big, ugly square ones with cracked frames. Above his head he could see the broken branches that had slowed her fall through the tree. It might have slowed her fall enough to save her life. Just above his head, there was a brown smear on the trunk that could have been blood. He dropped to the ground.
“She was here for sure.” He showed Hickey the glasses. “Let’s spread out.”
They checked a wide circle in both directions but the deep snow refused to give up any more clues to the girl’s fate. Finally Hickey stopped, his chest heaving for a full minute before he managed to say, “This is shit. She’s not here.”
Larry nodded. “Let’s head back to the chopper. Maybe she made it to one of those cabins.”
The trip back to the chopper was marginally easier, since they could follow their own trail. Once inside, Larry adjusted his flight pattern, swinging south, then curving west in a tight loop. He gradually widened his flight path until he spotted the first cabin.
* * * *
Luke pushed open the cabin door, bringing an icy blast of air with him. He’d stamped his feet on the mat outside, chunks of snow falling off his legs like mini avalanches, but remnants of white still clung to his jeans well above the knee. He’d managed to brush most of the snow off on his chest and arms, acquired while attempting to clear his windshield.
Amelia rose, turning to face him, her gaze dancing across him, before moving past him to the truck visible through the open door.
“Trouble?” she asked.
He closed the door. “Battery’s too cold to start. I need a jump.” If he’d been on his own, he’d have strapped on skis. It was only about ten miles as the crow flies to the highway, where the snowplows would be out.
“So we’re stuck?” Her tone was neutral, giving no indication of how she felt about it. She’d been busy while he was outside. She’d not only gathered up her stuff, but everything he’d brought was packed and stacked neatly by the door.
“Well, I noticed a chopper in the distance. Was thinking I’d call and see if I could get patched in to the pilot, see if he’d pick us up—” He stopped when he saw the color drain from her face.
“I can’t…not a helicopter.”
“Afraid of heights, maybe?” he asked, remembering Dani, who’s fear of heights had been severely tested on Long’s Peak two years ago.
“I don’t know.” She dropped onto the arm of the couch, her rapid, shallow breaths veering into the hyperventilation zone. “I just…feel so…I can’t!”
Luke grabbed a sack out of one of the boxes, dumped the contents and knelt down in front of her. “Breathe into this.”
The bag over her face, the color soon returned to her face. She pushed it away. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem.” If it weren’t for her injuries, he’d call one of his brothers and wait for help to arrive, but his gut told him they should move. He’d tell his gut to get real, except for the bullet graze across her arm. Whoever had shot at her could be nearby. “There’s an old sled in the wood shed. I could probably pull you out on it, but it would be damn cold.”
“Why can’t I just use a pair of those?” She pointed at the skis propped by the door.
“You can ski?”
She moved her feet like they had skis on and were testing the snow, her hands curling around imaginary poles. “I…think so.”
He hesitated, frowning as he considered the risks. “It’s about fifteen miles by the road to the highway, all of it down hill, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, your wrist for one thing.”
She held it out, flexing it gingerly. “The swelling is down and the pain is manageable. The other wound feels better, too.”
Right. And there was this bridge in New York for sale. He sighed. “If you have a concussion, this could be such a bad idea.”
Her gaze met his. “You’re as uneasy as I am, aren’t you? About staying, I mean? I wanted to stay at first, but now…we need to go.”
He knew she was right, but wasn’t ready to admit it yet. She looked fragile, breakable as she sat in a ray of sun shining in through the window opposite. The scratches on her face and hands, the bruises turning to rainbows, all a pointed reminder that something had gone seriously awry.
“I can do this,” she added. She smiled. “You said I was tough.”
As if to nudge him into a decision, the thump-thump of the chopper grew steadily louder.
“All right. I’ll find you some snow gear. In the front closet there’s an emergency pack and an empty one. Make sure you gather up all your stuff,” he finished. It would be best if no one knew she’d been here.
For a weighted moment her gaze met his, then she nodded.
Their orderly departure preparations gave way to a mutual sense of urgency. At the door, Luke handed Amelia, now wearing one of Dani’s snow suits and a pair of Phoebe’s boots, a small radio transceiver.
“Very cool,” she said. “You just happened to have it around?”
Thanks to Dewey. “We use them to keep in touch when we’re rock climbing or skiing.”
“How hi-tech of you.”
Luke grinned. Once he’d shown her how to use it, she inserted the ear piece and tucked the receiver in an inside pocket of the snow suit.
“Testing, testing,” Amelia said, in a deep, mock-important voice. “We’re moving into position now.”
“Now we know you like playing spy,” Luke said. “Ever read any Tom Clancy?”
“Hunt for Red October?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulled on the emergency pack, with two pairs of snow shoes strapped to it, just in case. She pulled on the spare pack with her few belongings tucked inside. “You sure you got everything?”
“I didn’t bring that much with me.”
Luke locked the door, then joined Amelia in the clearing. Despite her obvious worry, she smiled with delight as she moved her skis in the deep, white powder.
“The snow is perfect.” She stopped, her brows arched in mischief. “At least, I think it is. Which way?”
He looked in the direction of the chopper. It had dropped out of sight for a while, but was now airborne again and heading their way. If it was looking for Amelia, they were going to be hard-pressed to lose it with the newly fallen snow taking an imprint of their every move. “Normally I’d take the road, but I think it’s better to stay under cover. If they really want to track us, we’re going to leave big tracks in the snow.”
Her face had paled again, but she nodded and moved her skis like she was waiting for the judges signal to burst out of the slalom gate.
Had she raced? He didn’t remember seeing her at any of the local events, but that didn’t mean much, since he didn’t make every one of them. Racing seemed at odds with her old fashioned formality. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gave him a thumbs up.
He pulled his down and said, “I’ll take point.”
He pushed off, feeling the familiar rush of excitement as his skis
sliced through the deep, white powder across the clearing. Skiing fresh powder was a different experience from skiing the packed snow of a resort. It was slower going, and he had to keep his weight back, rather than leaning into the rush forward. But it was also more magical. The closest he could describe it was that it was like floating. His skis sank deep into the powder, while he pulled the crisp, cold air into his lungs. He didn’t know why it was so, but the combination of cold and movement sharpened all his senses. His eyes took it in—the images sharp, the color vivid. He heard and processed sounds, too. His skis slicing through the snow. Amelia following on his heels. The clatter of the chopper.
He took the shortest route toward cover, turning with a powerful swivel of the hips that lifted the skis up for the turn. They cut deep into the powder, turning him into the trees and heading straight down the mountain.
“You all right?” he asked. He couldn’t risk even a quick look back. He wished he had a rear view mirror on his goggles.
“I’m great.” She sounded like she meant it. Her voice was breathless, but he could also hear the same exhilaration he was feeling as the chopper sounded louder and closer.
“We’ll try to avoid clearings, where our tracks will be more obvious,” he said. Even as he talked, his mind was running ahead, trying to remember the last time he’d skied this way. The hazards, the best route—
“Can you jump?” he asked, remembering an unavoidable ledge about twenty meters ahead, unless they wanted to turn back toward the road, a lengthy detour from where they were now.
“No clue,” Amelia said, cheerfully. “Let’s assume I do and hope for the best.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he said, “Stay on my six…”
“…and pray,” she finished for him.
He turned to avoid a large boulder, the branches of a pine tree beating against his face as he passed by it. He burst into the clear and beyond it saw the drop. He had a heartbeat in which to change his center of gravity, and then he shot out into space, hanging in the air briefly before dropping toward the ground. He tried to balance his weight again, but one ski bounced over a rock buried in the snow. He wobbled, then went down, skidding sideways toward a tree.
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 68