by Jane Graves
“Mistaken about the parade of women I’ve seen coming in and out of his apartment at all hours of the night? I’m mistaken about that? I swear to God, Paula—”
Renee took a deep breath. Good Lord. This was hardly the time or place to discuss Paula’s love life.
“I’m sorry, Paula. Really. I’ve got no right to go on at you like that.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re under a little pressure. That’s all. Tom didn’t tell that guy where you were. Trust me on that, will you?”
Renee sighed heavily. Maybe Paula was right. Maybe Leandro just had a sixth sense or something, like some kind of bloodhound from hell.
“So how did you get away from him?” Paula asked.
Renee squeezed her eyes closed at the memory of her foray into arson. “Never mind. I managed to ditch him, though, and now I’m driving this cop’s car—”
“You’re driving a police car?”
“No. His own car. He doesn’t know I borrowed it, so I’ve got to ditch it in a hurry, just in case he—”
“Hold on a minute. Tell me more about this cop.”
Renee sighed. He’s drop-dead gorgeous and one hell of a kisser. And if he gets his hands on me again, I’m a dead woman.
“I’ll tell you about him later. But right now...right now I just wanted to...” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I guess I just wanted to hear a friendly voice.”
“So where are you going now? Still to New—” Paula stopped suddenly. “No—don’t tell me. Somebody could have my phone bugged.” She gasped. “Maybe that’s how that guy found out where you were. You called me from that motel, you know.”
Renee hadn’t even considered that. “Do you think that’s how he found me? Oh, God—could someone trace this call?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’d better go. Call me again when you think it’s safe, will you? Let me know you’re all right?”
“Yeah. Okay. I will.”
Paula hung up. Renee laid down the phone, and her eyes filled with tears again. Even if she got to New Orleans without anyone knowing, even if she assumed a new identity, even if she got a job, met a nice man, got married, and put together some semblance of a life, it would still be a lie.
And she’d still be a fugitive.
A hollow, empty feeling that had nothing to do with hunger settled in the pit of her stomach. It had been so damned hard to finally accept herself as a decent person, after being told by her alcoholic mother her entire childhood that she was a worthless human being. She’d lived up to that assessment for so much of her life that turning herself around had been a struggle unlike any other.
But slowly, over time, she’d built a life in Tolosa, a life she never thought she’d have when she was growing up, a solid, respectable life with a good job, good friends, a decent place to live, and the ability to look people in the eye and not be afraid of what they saw when they looked back at her.
And now it was over.
Paula Merani set the phone back down on the table and rested her head against the back of the sofa. She had no idea what was going on with Renee, only that it sounded bad, and she sounded upset. She felt so helpless sitting here, unable to do anything to make things right.
“That was Renee, wasn’t it?”
Paula spun around to see Tom standing at the doorway, his hand on the door frame above his head. He wore nothing but a pair of ragged Levi’s slung low on his hips, and it didn’t matter if nuclear war had been declared, Paula would have stopped to stare. He was tall, with lean, fluid muscles, green eyes, and flaxen hair that glinted like gold.
“Oh, Tom, Renee had a run-in with that awful man! The one who was here last night!”
“The bounty hunter?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how he found her, but he did. Somehow she managed to get away from him, but I’m not sure what’s happening now.” She sighed. “If only there were some way to know who really committed that robbery, she could come home again.”
“I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”
“You do believe she’s innocent, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But the evidence is pretty strong against her.”
Paula knew what he meant. If Renee went to trial, she probably didn’t stand a chance. But Paula didn’t want to hear that. She wanted to ignore the truth and believe that somehow everything was going to work out.
“Where is she now?” Tom asked. “Still at that motel?”
“No. But I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is that she sounded so upset!'
Tom brushed a stray strand of dark hair away from her cheek, then pulled her over to lay her head against his shoulder. She had to pinch herself every day to believe that a man as gorgeous as Tom was interested in her. In high school she’d always been the girl who’d been everybody’s best buddy and nobody’s girlfriend, and guys like Tom had never given her a second look.
Paula didn’t know why Renee didn’t like him, aside from her misconception about the other women she thought he was seeing. He was nothing like his cousin, Steve, but she didn’t think Renee had ever believed that.
Nine months ago, Tom and Steve had moved into an apartment down the hall from Renee. Until a few months before that, they’d played in a band together. They’d finally realized that the local clubs in Tolosa, Texas, were about as far as their act was likely to go, and they’d broken up. Tom had gotten a job and headed for junior college, but Steve had stayed around the club scene, getting DJ gigs at various clubs and gambling most of his paycheck away.
Then Renee had a party and invited them both. At least half a dozen women in the room that night had their eyes on Tom, but Paula was the one he’d invited back to his apartment. He’d played his guitar for her, singing dumb love songs with that incredible tenor voice of his. If she hadn’t already fallen for him, that would have cinched it.
Renee and Steve had started to date about that time, too. They broke up within a few months, but Paula’s relationship with Tom only grew stronger. For a long time she waited for the ax to fall, for Tom to wise up and realize he was dating a woman who was ordinary when he could have one who was extraordinary. But he hadn’t. And now, several months later, she was finally starting to take his word that he really did love her.
Tom had aspirations for something better, even if Steve didn’t. Why couldn’t Renee see that? Sure, Tom had had a few months of unemployment when she’d helped him out financially, but since he was in college and working toward something better, she’d done it gladly. He’d pay her back someday. After all, they were in love with each other, weren’t they?
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Have you thought any more about moving in here? If you give up your apartment, you’ll save hundreds every month. I know it’s hard for you to make the rent ever since Steve moved out.”
“No. I know it would be cheaper to give up my apartment, but I just can’t do that.” He shook his head. “Damn. I hate owing you money. I’m just—I’m just having a hard time getting back on my feet again. That’s all.”
“It’s okay. I know you’ll pay me back when you can.”
“I have this feeling that I might be coming into some money pretty soon. And when I do—”
“I told you not to worry about it. I’ll help you as long as you need it.”
Tom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, kissing her hair, then hugging her tightly. “Paula?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love me?”
She pulled away and stared at him. “What kind of a silly question is that? Of course I love you!”
“Renee doesn’t like me. I’m afraid someday you’re going to listen to her.”
“She just doesn’t know you like I do. That’s all.”
“But you don’t know everything about me,” he said, an odd, faraway look on his face. “You might not love me if you did.”
“There isn’t anything you could do that would change the way I feel abo
ut you.”
“I know you think that now, but...” Tom let out a nervous breath. “There’s something I really ought to tell you.”
In spite of all his professions of love, Paula had a feeling of foreboding. This was it. She was sure of it. This was the part where he was going to say, It’s been fun, but now it’s over. You didn’t really think it would be forever, did you?
“Tom,” she said. “Tell me the truth. Please. You’re not seeing another woman, are you?”
“Of course not!” He took her face in his hands and fixed his gaze on hers. “Renee is wrong about me. I swear she is. There’s nobody but you, Paula. Nobody.”
“Then what is it?” Paula said.
He stared at her a long time, those green eyes exuding more power over her than a hypnotist’s pendulum.
“Never mind,” he said finally. “It’s not important.”
He kissed her, a sweet, tender kiss that soon evolved into something much deeper and more intimate. She slid her arms around his neck as he pressed her down to the sofa, astonished that in all these months the thrill of his touch had never faded.
Yes, he’d borrowed an awful lot of money from her, but he’d promised to pay it all back. Renee kept saying he was taking advantage of her, but Paula knew that wasn’t his intent at all, and if she ever thought it was, it was simply her own insecurity showing. Tom would never do anything to hurt her.
Never.
When John pulled into the parking lot of the Winslow Medical Center, he wondered how the tiny building had the nerve to call itself a hospital. A facility like this generally specialized in treating cases of the flu and sprained ankles. Fortunately for Leandro, a broken nose might be just the kind of challenging case they were looking for.
John spied a pay phone in the lobby. As he dug through his pocket for change, he watched Leandro approach the reception window. The receptionist looked up, undoubtedly expecting to see a runny-nosed kid with a cold, or maybe a middle-aged guy with a beer belly and chest pain. She did not expect a bald, six-foot-five, hard-as-steel monster with a face that could make the devil himself run screaming into the night.
Leandro slid the window open, leaned in, and said something to the woman, and by the way her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened, he’d probably told her about some form of bodily damage he intended to inflict on her if he was forced to plant his butt in a waiting-room chair.
She turned and yelled at somebody in the back room. A fortyish Hispanic woman emerged. She had the world-weary look of one of those seasoned health-care professionals who could eat lunch over a severed leg and still want dessert. But when her gaze panned up to Leandro’s face, even she looked a little woozy.
John plugged coins into the pay phone, then watched as Leandro was escorted immediately into an exam room. Strangely enough, nobody in the waiting room seemed inclined to challenge the staff’s triage decision.
John started to dial, then had a thought. It was a long shot, but there just might be a way to locate Renee without having to mess with the local cops. It was worth a try, anyway.
He dialed the number of the phone in his car.
The phone rang once. Twice. Then three times. This was a crapshoot, of course. Surely Renee wouldn’t be dumb enough to—
Click.
“Hello?”
He couldn’t believe it. She’d actually picked up the phone? Shaking off his surprise, he assumed the nastiest cop voice he could muster and went straight for her throat.
“Now get this straight, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve already reported my car stolen. Every cop in the area will have his eyes wide open and his weapon drawn, and seeing as how you’re already a fugitive, they might not think twice about using them. Ever seen a pissed-off cop, Renee? I mean, really pissed? It’s not a pretty sight. Especially out here in the middle of nowhere, where funding is slim and they don’t have video cameras on their cars to record their every move like they do on those cop shows. I mean, who’s to say you weren’t resisting arrest? Are you following me, Renee?”
He paused for a reaction. He could hear her breathing hard, like a teenager in a horror flick right before the knife falls.
“I already ditched your car,” she said finally, her voice choked. “I swear.”
“And you’re still carrying around my phone?”
Silence.
“You’re a liar, Renee.”
“No! Really! I’m not driving your car! I’ll even tell you where I left it. You can go there yourself. It’s about a mile down the highway from that diner we were at, on the side of the road, the opposite way from Winslow. That’s where I left it, with the keys behind the left front tire. I’m not there anymore. I’m...somewhere else.”
“I’m not buying this.”
“And seeing as how I didn’t have your car for more than twenty or thirty minutes, and seeing as how I gave it right back, surely you won’t—”
“It’s grand theft auto. Add that to your armed-robbery charge—”
“No! I just borrowed it!”
“Borrowed?”
“Yes! You practically gave me the keys!”
“Gave you...?” John paced back and forth as far as the phone cord would allow, gesturing wildly. “I didn’t give you anything!”
“Well, you didn’t exactly give them to me, but they were lying right there on the counter in plain sight, weren’t they?”
“So that gives you the right to steal my car?”
“Borrow your car,” she explained. “Borrow.”
Astonished by her convoluted logic, John wanted to beat his head against the wall. Once he got hold of her, he’d do the world a favor. He’d wrap his hands around her neck and cut off the blood supply to her scheming, illogical brain. Before long she’d be nothing more than a harmless little vegetable who smiled a lot, looked really pretty, and didn’t steal cars. His car in particular. That was what he’d do.
“Tell me where you are, Renee,” he said. “Right now. Tell me where you are, or I’ll have every cop, sheriff, sharpshooter, bloodhound, and SWAT team within a hundred miles breathing down your neck. Do you understand?”
All at once John heard a muffled crackle, followed by a loud, scratchy female voice.
“Welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order?”
A gasp.
Click.
John pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it in dumb disbelief. Had he just heard what he thought he’d heard? A fast-food drive-in window? What kind of car-stealing fugitive stopped for a Big Mac?
John slammed down the receiver, thinking fast. In the time that had elapsed since Renee had grabbed his car, she couldn’t have made it to any other town besides Winslow. And in a dinky little town like this, how many McDonald’s could there be? Surely not more than one. If he called the local guys right now, chances were they could pick her up before she could say “Supersize it.” As he grabbed the phone again, though, something caught his eye across the street, maybe half a block down from the hospital.
Golden arches.
Chapter 6
The speaker blared again as the woman repeated her request for an order, but Renee’s hunger had vanished in a cloud of sheer panic. Where was John? Twenty miles away? One mile away? Standing right behind her?
The only reason she’d picked up that stupid phone was because she thought it was possible that Paula got the cell phone number off caller ID and was calling her back for some reason. The last thing she expected was to hear John’s voice on the other end of the line.
She had to get out of here. Now.
Unfortunately, the minivan was in front of her, at least three cars had pulled in behind her, and a row of carefully pruned holly bushes sat between her and the parking lot. Her panic level took a quantum leap. How was she going to get out of here?
Then the minivan moved up to the window and Renee felt a rush of relief. But relief edged into panic again when the gum-cracking McTeenager at the window started handing food to the driver. B
ags and bags of food. And Cokes. And ice-cream sundaes. And chocolate-chip cookies. Renee estimated that in the span of two minutes, enough food went into that van to feed a third-world nation.
Then the driver handed an open cardboard container back to the McTeenager, pointing out something about that particular hamburger that evidently wasn’t right. Renee wanted to shout at him, This is McDonald’s, not Burger King! You can’t have it your way!
She gripped the steering wheel until her hands ached. Surely her sense of time was warped right now. This food transference couldn’t actually be taking eons.
She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, trying to get a grip. What were the odds of John’s being anywhere near here? About a thousand to one? Even a hundred to one didn’t sound so bad. All she had to do was hug the minivan’s bumper, and the second it pulled out, she would too. Everything was going to be okay. She took a deep, calming breath, then opened her eyes again.
John was coming across the street.
For a moment she sat there, frozen with disbelief, like the time she’d whacked her finger with a hammer but it took a second or two to feel the pain. Then a big red danger sign flashed in her brain, and she slapped her palm against the Explorer’s horn in one continuous blare, trying to get the kid to clear out.
He stuck his head out the window and glared at her. “Hey! Keep your shirt on, will you?”
At the same time, three long-haired girls—or maybe boys, she wasn’t sure which—plastered themselves against the back window of the minivan and gaped at Renee as if she were some kind of mind-numbing video game.
And John was closing in on her fast.
Renee rolled the window down, stuck her head out, and yelled at the kid, “Move! Please move! Please/”
He ignored her, continuing to hog the drive-through as if time were not a factor here, as if the woman in the green Explorer behind him wasn’t about to get mauled by one very large and very angry cop.
John leaped over a low hedge at the edge of the parking lot and strode toward her, his face a mask of unmitigated fury. On the verge of hysteria, Renee fingered the door handle, thinking about running. Then she thought again. John was bigger than she was, and certainly faster. She wouldn’t stand a chance.