Valley of Shadows and Stranger in the Shadows: Valley of ShadowsStranger in the Shadows

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Are we destined to waste all our time arguing, Miranda? Or can you, just this once, do things my way without a fight?”

  “I don’t argue and I’m not a fighter.” To prove her point, Miranda did as he suggested, the bumping thump of the car as she pulled deep into the field making her wish she’d stuck to her guns and stayed the course. She shut off the engine and turned to face Hawke, the sudden silence eerie. “There. Happy now?”

  “Not yet. Let’s wait a while.”

  “If we wait too long, we’ll miss our ride.”

  “If we walk into a trap, we won’t need a ride and all the planning my friend has done will be wasted.”

  “The best laid plans—”

  “—of mice and men. Enough quotes. Listen to me.” He leaned in, placing a hand on each of Miranda’s shoulders, staring into her eyes with such grim determination she was sure she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “The church is close. Maybe three miles. We’re to meet my friend there in less than an hour. I’m going to jog in. Make sure it’s safe. If it is, we’ll be back for you by seven-thirty. If we aren’t, cut through the cornfield until you find another road. Then get out of town.”

  “And go where?”

  “Somewhere no one can find you.”

  “No way. There isn’t a place like that. Besides, you can’t run three miles with that head injury.”

  “Watch me.” Before Miranda could even react, Hawke opened the door and stepped out of the car.

  “Wait!” She scrambled across the car seat, panic giving her wings, and grabbed his hand. “I’ll come with you.”

  “You ever run three miles before?”

  “Maybe. In high school.”

  “And that was how long ago? Six years? Seven?”

  “Twelve. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do it now.” The coolness of the morning wrapped around her, the corn stalks whispering secrets to the sky, to the earth, to anyone who cared to hear—life and death written into the soil that fed them and singing into the air with every swaying movement. If someone came while Hawke was gone, Miranda’s blood could be spilled onto the earth as easily as Abel’s had thousands of years ago, seeping into the ground and feeding the plants with only God as witness to what had happened.

  She shuddered and straightened her spine, doing her best to look strong, invincible and completely unafraid.

  Hawke wasn’t buying it. She could see it in the half smile that softened the grim lines of his face. “Sorry, babe, but I’d have to disagree. You’re not made for running.”

  “I’m made for whatever I put my mind to.”

  “That I can agree with, but I’ve got to move fast. You won’t be able to keep up. Stay here. It’s safer for both of us.”

  He took a step away, tugging at her hold on his hand. She refused to release her grip, afraid of what might happen if he disappeared and didn’t come back. “I can keep up.”

  “You’re afraid, but you don’t have to be. I told you I’d make sure you were all right.” He spoke quietly, moving in close, pulling her forward until her head rested against his chest. She could hear the solid beat of his heart, the quiet inhalations of each breath and, despite the warnings that screamed through her, she let her arms slip around his waist, let herself cling to the comfort he offered.

  “That’s going to be hard for you to do if you aren’t around.”

  “Weren’t you saying last night that God doesn’t play favorites? That He’ll look after us both?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So believe it and stop being afraid.”

  She nodded her head, tried to pull back and look up into Hawke’s face, but his arms tightened around her as if he were as reluctant to leave as she was to let him go. He ran a hand over her hair, smoothing the curly wayward strands Miranda knew must be tangled and knotted. “Okay now?”

  She nodded again, and he released his hold, stepping away, his eyes storm-cloud gray, his expression grim. “Good. Now, get back in the car. I’ve got to hurry.”

  Miranda was about to do as Hawke suggested when the sound of an engine broke the morning silence. Her heart skipped a beat, and she grabbed for Hawke’s hand again. “Someone’s coming.”

  “We’re not the only people awake this morning. There are plenty of reasons someone might be on the road.” Hawke didn’t sound nearly as convinced as Miranda would have liked him to be, and he turned toward the road, his free hand dropping to the gun that peeked out from under his T-shirt.

  Whoever it was, whatever the vehicle, it was close now, roaring along the quiet road just out of sight. Then, as suddenly as it had started the sound ceased, the sudden silence deafening.

  Miranda’s breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.

  Hawke turned his head, met her gaze, mouthing a command for her to hide.

  She nodded, but couldn’t bring herself to leave. Hawke was armed, but injured. There was no way she planned to hide while he fought off their faceless enemy, no matter how scared she was.

  Leaves crackled and something scuffled just out of sight. Miranda jumped, nearly falling backward as a dark figure stepped into view.

  The gun was in Hawke’s hand so quickly, Miranda didn’t even see him move. She gasped, backing up then moving closer. Not sure if she wanted to tell him to stop, or encourage him to shoot.

  “I wouldn’t come any closer.” He growled the words, the menace in them unmistakable and enough to stop the approaching figure.

  “I guess I’ve found the right party.” If the speaker was surprised by the gun or worried by it he didn’t let it show.

  “Not by a long shot, so why don’t you go back the way you came and forget you ever saw us?” Hawke took a step forward and Miranda shadowed him, squinting to see the person they were approaching.

  “Because a friend asked for my help and I agreed to give it. He’s counting on me. So are you, I think.” He took a step closer and Miranda could make out shaggy light brown hair and even features. He didn’t look intimidating, though she was sure that didn’t mean much.

  “Stay where you are and tell me your story. Fast.”

  “I’m a friend of Noah’s. His pastor, actually. He couldn’t make it to meet you, so he sent me.”

  “Couldn’t make it?”

  “He was waylaid by some unhappy federal agents. I’ve been driving up and down this road for an hour, hoping I’d catch you before you made it to the church. Lakeview is crawling with agents and state cops. They haven’t made it as far as Grace Christian, but it’s just a matter of time before they do. Better that we meet here. If they find you at the church, they’ll know Noah sent you there. I don’t think either of us want that.”

  “I’d rather not be found at all.” Hawke lowered the gun, locking the safety again. He didn’t sense danger from the man standing before him and he trusted his instincts much more than he trusted a stranger’s words.

  “Then we’d better get you out of town fast.”

  “Just like that you agree to help a suspected felon?” Despite his gut instinct about the man, Hawke wasn’t sure he was buying the story.

  “Just like that I agreed to help a friend help a friend.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Noah is a man of strong convictions. I trust him. When his wife called me from her veterinary clinic and explained what was going on, I knew I had to help. I’m Ben Avery, by the way.” He held out a hand, completely ignoring the gun Hawke still held.

  “A pastor.”

  “Yes.”

  “You look military to me.” Hawke could spot one a mile away and this guy reeked special forces, his stance relaxed, but alert, his balance ready for a quick shift to attack if need be.

 
“Was military. That was a long time ago.”

  The fact that he admitted it said something about the man. People lied when they had something to hide. The truth was a luxury reserved for the innocent. He nodded, slid the gun out of sight. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

  “Noah wanted to have a pilot friend fly you out to California, but the feds are nosing around everyone he knows and we can’t risk it. I’ve called in a favor. A missionary brush pilot who retired a few years back. He’s got a plane and a license and can fly you out west. There will be someone waiting at the airport with your passports and identification.”

  Hawke shook his head, fingering the scar that bisected his cheek. “Passports and identification or not, this’ll be hard to hide from airport security.”

  “Not with the right tools.” Ben smiled. “Disguise is something I know a little about. Stay here. I’ll get my stuff.”

  Hawke grabbed Ben’s arm as he turned away, felt hard muscles beneath flannel. The guy might be ex-military, but he was still trained and ready to fight.

  “If you double-cross me… .” He let the words trail off, let the threat hang in the air.

  “I’ve got nothing to gain from it and everything to lose. I’ve made a life in Lakeview. A good one. I’m not going to risk it by alerting the feds to the fact that I’m aiding a felon. Now, let’s get this done. You’ve got to be at an airstrip outside of Charlottesville in three hours. From there you head to California as honeymooners.” He shot a glance in Miranda’s direction and shrugged. “It was the easiest cover we could come up with. Now, are we ready to go?”

  Hawke hesitated. Trust or not? It’s what everything in his life eventually boiled down to. He stared into Ben’s eyes, trying to find truth or falsehood there. All he saw was compassion and the strange knowledge he’d often seen in Noah Stone’s eyes, a knowledge that seemed a reflection of much more than human understanding and that seemed to beg Hawke to believe in things he’d refused for much too long.

  He dropped Ben’s arm and stepped back. “Go get what you need and let’s get moving before someone else finds us here.”

  Ben smiled, the tension in his jaw and shoulders the only hint of what he was feeling, then stepped back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he had come and leaving Hawke with the strange feeling that things were about to change. That his life perspective was about to be challenged, that what he’d always believed might not be the truth and that what he’d sensed so many times and ignored had hooked its claws into him and was not about to let go. Good or bad. Righteous or evil. Something was tugging at his soul and Hawke wondered just how long he’d be able to ignore.

  A while longer, anyway. He had a mission to fulfill. Deep thinking and soul-searching would have to wait until he completed it.

  He turned to Miranda, grabbing her hand, squeezing gently. Her skin was milk-white in the morning light, the freckles on her nose and cheeks standing out in stark contrast. He’d thought her hair brown, but now he could see hints of fiery red and butterscotch yellow in its depth. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, giving her a fragile, wounded appearance. The fierce need to protect her reared up, taking Hawke by surprise. She’d saved his life and Hawke believed in repaying what was owed. Emotional involvement had never played into it before. He couldn’t let it now, either. Doing so could only distract him from his goal.

  “Is he telling the truth?” She whispered the words, her gaze fixed on the spot where Ben had disappeared.

  “Probably.”

  “Probably? I don’t think I like the way that sounds.”

  “I don’t like it, either, but it’s all we’ve got right now.”

  Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but crackling grass and breaking cornstalks announced Ben’s return, the purposeful warning designed to keep Hawke from pulling his gun again. Obviously, the man was savvy about survival. What remained to be seen was whether or not he was as trustworthy as he claimed. Only time would tell that.

  Unfortunately, Hawke and Miranda didn’t have much of it left. Danger was breathing down Hawke’s neck. He could feel it. If they didn’t get out of Lakeview soon, they wouldn’t get out at all.

  And that just wasn’t an option.

  Hand on his gun, Hawke strode toward the approaching man.

  Chapter Seven

  Forty hours of flying was enough to convince Miranda that staying in one place for a lifetime wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Gritty-eyed from hours of fitful sleep, skin layered with grime, she stared out the window of the 747 as the ground rose up to meet it. With a bump and thump of protest, the plane landed, the landscape speeding by in a dizzying array of colors. In a matter of minutes, she and Hawke would depart from the relative safety of the plane. Just the thought made her heart race and her breath hitch.

  “Relax, sweetheart.” Hawke’s arm slipped around her shoulder, his lips pressing into her hair. “We’ve been looking forward to this trip for months. You should be excited, not terrified.”

  The words were a subtle warning and Miranda tried to respond, pushing back strands of stick-straight hair and smiling.

  “I am excited.” And not nearly as good an actor as Hawke. Her words sounded phony, her smile felt forced. She’d have to do better if they were going to make it out of the airport without calling attention to themselves.

  “Me, too.” Hawke’s hand smoothed over her arm, his gaze as warm and loving as any newlywed’s should be. “Two weeks alone together is exactly what we need after so many months of wedding preparations. I’ve missed spending time with you.”

  His words were meant to carry and they did. The elderly woman seated next to him sighed, smiling at Miranda. “You’re a very fortunate young woman to have a such a romantic husband.”

  Miranda tried to return the smile, praying she’d be as convincing as Hawke had been during the long flight. “I know I am.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, felt the taut muscles and coiled strength beneath the jacket he wore. Brown contacts had turned his smoky eyes dark, and a plasticky substance disguised his scar. With his hair down, his cheeks were less prominent, his face less granite and more smooth-planed. He looked model-handsome, clean-cut and nothing like the hardened criminal he could have passed for when they’d first met. Perfect husband material. Just like he was supposed to be.

  Miranda’s appearance had changed, too. Her curly hair was covered by a black wig that looked so natural she was sure it was made of real hair, her lips tinged with red, her freckles covered with makeup and her cheekbones hollowed with blush. She looked older, more worldly; the kind of woman who’d marry the kind of man Hawke looked to be.

  It was no wonder the elderly woman believed their story.

  She just hoped the people at customs would. Unlike the other airports they’d passed through, this one was sure to have been alerted to Hawke and Miranda’s possible arrival. It wouldn’t take much to give them away.

  Passengers rose to grab bags and belongings, and Hawke squeezed Miranda’s shoulder as if he could offer her the confidence she lacked. “This is it. Ready for the adventure?” There was warmth and humor in his voice, but his eyes flashed with impatience. No doubt he was anxious to get on with things.

  Miranda, on the other hand, was not. She nodded anyway, praying that God would get them through this airport the same way He had the others they’d been through—quick, easy, no hassle. “Of course. Let’s do it.”

  Hawke’s half smile eased some of the impatience from his eyes, but Miranda still had the impression of banked fires, ready to burst to life if given the opportunity. He grabbed her hand, pulling her into the aisle behind him, the elderly woman chatting with him as they exited the plane.

  It all seemed so normal, Miranda could almost believe she and Hawke were no longer in danger. Almost.

  Somehow s
he managed to say goodbye to the older woman, exchanging a brief hug and well-wishes. Then she followed Hawke into the airport, watched as he collected the suitcase filled with clothes that Ben’s friend had provided, allowed herself to be tugged toward customs. All around her the building teemed with life, bursting at the seams and ready to embrace all who came. Smiles. Everywhere. Dark eyes, dark hair, white teeth flashing in tanned faces. Hawke’s home and a world away from anything Miranda had ever experienced.

  In other circumstances she might have enjoyed the newness, but now she could only feel terror and a deep-seated emptiness, her heart heavy with what she’d lost and what she might still lose. To never see Lauren again, never see Max, her friends, her church, seemed a distinct possibility. She had the sudden urge to confess all to the first English-speaking authority she met, to beg for help. Someone, somewhere should be able to convince the DEA that she and Hawke were innocent.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, Hawke released his grip on her hand and wound his arm around her waist, tugging her close to his side. His leather jacket was cool against her cheek, the scent of earth and sun clinging to it despite the hours they’d spent on airplanes and in airports. “Now’s not the time to panic, babe. We’re almost home free. There will be people watching for us and they’re trained to notice body language. Try to relax and look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I’ve never been much of an actress.” All the drama and acting ability had been passed from her mother to her sister, leaving Miranda with an even-keeled temperament and little ability to fake emotions she didn’t feel. Or hide those she did.

  “You better learn quick, then, because we’re about a hundred yards from an agent.”

  “Where?” Miranda’s heart nearly leaped from her chest, and she stumbled, with only Hawke’s strong hold keeping her from falling flat on her face.

  “Standing on the other side of customs. Leaning against the wall. Don’t even think about looking for him. You’ve got eyes only for me. We’re newlyweds, remember?” His voice was a soft caress as his hand came up to cup her cheek, his eyes staring into hers as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. If she hadn’t known the truth of their situation, if she’d been simply an observer watching as she and Hawke approached customs, she’d be convinced that the man beside her was completely besotted.