by Metsy Hingle
Already his thoughts were jumping ahead to how he was going to calmly lay out the facts for her, including his own duplicity. Then he would present her with the airline tickets and a safe haven for her and Timmy. She might hate him for his role in the situation, but she would do what was best for Timmy. He knew that, he was counting it. And while she and Timmy were with Janie and the boys, he would find out what hold Webster had on Lily. If he ruined whatever there was between them, it was a chance he would have to take. She needed help whether she knew it or not. And he intended to provide it.
Not interested in eating, he didn’t bother looking at the menu. Impatient, he kept his eyes trained on the doors leading from the kitchen, waiting for Lily to walk through them and come over to take his order.
Gina placed a glass of water, a cup of coffee and a setting of silverware wrapped in a white napkin on the table. “So, you decided what you want yet?” she asked him.
Michael looked up at the dark-haired woman who stood waiting in front of him, order pad and pencil in hand, realizing that the table Gina had been clearing had been one of Lily’s. “How come you’re covering Lily’s tables?”
Because she’s not here. She called Nancy Lee last night and said she had a family emergency and would be out for a few days.”
“Did something happen to Timmy? Her little boy?” He didn’t even question the sudden panic he felt at the idea of something happening to the child.
“No. Nothing like that. Her aunt in Atlanta had a stroke. She said she had to fly out first thing this morning because the doctors said it wasn’t looking good. Although how she expected to get a flight out of New Orleans the day before Mardi Gras is beyond me.”
But Lily wouldn’t have to worry about getting a flight out from the busy airport—because she wouldn’t be going to Atlanta—since she didn’t have any aunt in Atlanta or anywhere else. “Gina, did she come by here this morning to pick up her paycheck?”
She frowned. “She sure did. How’d you know?”
“A hunch,” Michael explained. “How long ago was that?”
“A little before seven. I remember because I was just getting ready to unlock the door and put the Open sign out when she came in.”
“Did she have Timmy with her?”
“No, at least not that I saw. She was in and out of here pretty fast, but she didn’t bring him inside with her. It’s possible she left him waiting in the car.”
But Lily would never leave Timmy unattended in a car. Of that much he was sure. Michael stood, tossed some bills on the table. “Thanks.”
“Sullivan?”
He paused. “Yeah?”
“Lily didn’t look good. You know, like she hadn’t slept and maybe had been crying some. But I just figured it was because she was worried about her aunt. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
Knowing she had a three-and-a-half-hour start on him, he had to find her fast. Wherever she was running to she would need money. Which meant she would have to wait for the banks to open at nine o’clock to cash her paycheck and to clear out what money she had, he reasoned. With tomorrow being a holiday, along with the influx of tourists, the lines at the bank would be long. At least, he hoped they were.
He jogged across the street to his Bronco, unlocked it and got behind the wheel. She would have left Timmy with Gertie while she ran her errands—coming to the diner for her paycheck, going to the bank, packing and shutting up the house. Michael started the truck and pulled away from the curb, barely braking for the stoplight. Did he go to Gertie’s first or to Lily’s house? His gut told him Timmy would be her last stop before she skipped town. Given the time and the holiday crowds, he opted to try Lily’s place first. The moment the light turned green, he stomped on the gas and headed south. And as he sped through the streets, dodging Mardi Gras revelers who were gearing up to the big day tomorrow, his heart beat frantically in his chest, and he prayed that he wouldn’t be too late—that when he got there, he would find Lily.
She was there. Or at least her car was there, with the trunk open, packed with a couple of boxes, two suitcases and a small box of toys. Michael jumped out of the truck and hit the ground running. “Lily,” he yelled, racing through the house. He found her in the kitchen packing an ice chest.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Gina had been right. She did look bad. Her face was the color of chalk. The shadows beneath her eyes stood out like bruises. And her eyes, those damn green eyes that had haunted him since he’d first seen her picture, were wide and filled with fear. “Going somewhere?” he asked her.
“Out of town.”
“Where?”
“That’s none of your business,” she told him as she dumped several packages of cold cuts and juice boxes into the ice chest.
He walked over and stopped in front of the ice chest. “I’m making it my business.” Ignoring him, she continued—but he didn’t miss the slight tremor in her fingers.
Apparently deciding to abandon the remainder of the refrigerator’s contents, she closed the door and reached for the chest top. “Get out of my way, Michael.”
“Not until you tell me where you’re running to and why.”
“I’m not running anywhere. If you must know, I’m going to Atlanta to see my Aunt Sally. She had a stroke last night.”
“You don’t have an Aunt Sally,” Michael informed her.
She slapped the lightweight cover on top of the chest and glanced up at him out of eyes that had narrowed suspiciously. “How would you know?”
He debated how much to tell her, tried to gauge her reaction, decided the timing was wrong. “Because you told me. You said you didn’t have any family other than Timmy.”
She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “I didn’t think about Aunt Sally. She was my grandmother’s sister. Now, would you please get out of my way?”
“Here, let me carry that for you,” he said when she started to pick up the chest. After some reluctance, she let him take the ice chest and carry it out to the car for her, where he loaded it into the trunk.
“Thanks.” She slammed the trunk closed and headed back inside.
“How long are you planning to be gone?” he asked as he followed her into the den where she retrieved her purse and coat.
“A week. Maybe two,” she told him as she slipped on her jacket.
“Then how come it looks like you’ve packed just about everything you own?”
“I haven’t,” she countered.
“No? Then explain this,” he demanded, and marched into her bedroom, pulling open the closet door. “Tell me why all your clothes are gone.”
“I don’t owe you any explanations,” she shouted, and when she started to turn away he caught her.
“Who are you afraid of? Why are you afraid? Tell me.” He knew he was pushing her, hating to do it. But everything inside him said that if he confessed now, she would bolt. He needed her to trust him. It was the only way he could help her. Because suddenly helping her was all that mattered to him. “Don’t shut me out, Lily,” he said, his voice softening with the tenderness he felt for her. He smoothed his hands down her arms, held her. “Trust me. Let me help you.”
For a moment, her body went slack in his arms. Some of the fear left her eyes. Then the phone sitting on the table next to them started to ring. Lily tensed. Her eyes darted to the ringing phone.
Michael knew panic when he saw it, had dealt with it numerous times when he’d been a cop. It was panic he read in Lily’s eyes now. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“No. I have to go,” she insisted, and tried to pull away from him.
Michael grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Who’s there?” he demanded, aware of Lily’s terror-stricken expression, the stiffness of her body as he held her against him.
Then the line clicked and the dial tone buzzed in his ear.
“Oh my
God! Please, Michael. Let me go, please,” she pleaded.
“Lily, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s him. He’s found me.”
“Who?” he asked, doing his best to calm her, hating to see her so frightened. “Who’s found you?”
“My husband.”
Some survival instinct in her—the same instinct that had made her run away from Adam seven months ago—kicked in again now. Adam knew where she was. He had found her. She could feel it in her bones. And she had to get away. Now. Before he got there. Before he found Timmy.
“I have to go. Please, Michael. Don’t try to stop me. I have to get Timmy and leave before he gets here,” Lily told him.
“All right. Calm down, Lily,” Michael soothed. “We’re going. He’s not going to find you. I promise.”
She shook her head, knew Michael couldn’t understand. “He will. You don’t know him. He won’t stop until he gets me back.” Distraught, she didn’t realize, or even question, that Michael hadn’t seemed surprised to find out she was running from her husband—a husband whom she had told him was dead. Some portion of her brain simply stored that fact away, unwilling to examine it now when her only thought, her only goal, was to get her son and escape before Adam closed in on her. “Please, I have to go,” she cried out.
“Come on then. We’ll take my truck. And on the way to get Timmy, I’ll call the police and alert them,” he said, pulling a cell phone from his coat pocket. “They’ll protect—”
“No!” She slapped the cell phone from his hand, shoved him back against the table and ran.
“Lily, wait!”
But she didn’t wait. She couldn’t let Michael notify the police. Adam had too many police officials in his pocket, too many lawyers and judges on his payroll. They would just turn her and Timmy over to him. He’d dismiss her accusations as the rantings of a sick young woman. And they would believe him. Terrified, she raced out of the house with Michael’s voice ringing in her ears. She didn’t stop when she tripped on a rug, nor did she stop when she tipped over a lamp and sent it crashing to the floor. She simply got up and kept running. She didn’t even bother to close the door. She flew down the front steps, fought with the catch on the iron gate, and hurried to the street.
He knows where I am. Adam knows where I am. Is he in New Orleans? On his way, even now, to get me? Have to get Timmy. Have to get Timmy and run before he gets here.
She slapped the trunk closed and raced to the front of the car. Fumbling, she managed to get the key into the car door just as Michael came out of the house.
“Lily,” he shouted, and charged down the stairs.
Finally the locks released, and she jerked open the driver’s door. She threw her purse inside and was about to jump behind the wheel, when Michael yanked open the passenger door. “Michael, please. Don’t try to stop me. I have to go. I have to get to Timmy.”
“Not without me. I’m going with you.”
“You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”
“You think that matters to me?” he snapped. “I care about you, Lily. You and Timmy. You’ve got to trust me.”
Trust?
Oh, how she wanted to trust him, wished that she dare trust him. But she couldn’t. Not with Timmy’s life at stake. “I can’t. I can’t trust anyone,” she told him, and with the admission came the tears. Scared and exhausted both physically and emotionally, Lily didn’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have a choice. You’re going to have to trust me, because you can’t do this by yourself. I can help you, Lily. Let me help you.”
“You can’t help me. No one can.”
“You—” Whatever he was about to say, he didn’t finish. Instead, he said, “Get in the car.”
“Michael, I—”
“Get in the car,” he repeated, his voice sharp, his expression fierce. “Now.”
She started to protest, but something in his eyes stopped her. She slid behind the wheel. Michael got in and pulled the passenger door shut, but he kept his eyes trained on the side-view mirror.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Put the key in the ignition, but don’t start the car yet. Move slowly, act like nothing’s wrong, like we’re just chatting about something and getting ready to go for a drive. We’re being watched.”
Her stomach knotted, but she did as he said. “Who’s watching us? Where is he?”
“They,” he corrected. “There are two of them down the street.”
“Where?” she asked, starting to turn.
“Don’t turn around,” he commanded, and she froze. “I don’t want them to know we’ve spotted them.”
“Okay,” she replied and waited.
“All right. Now adjust your rearview mirror. Slowly,” he cautioned when she started to jerk at the mirror.
Taking care to make her movements more casual, she followed his lead. But all the while she was shaking inside.
“Now look down at the end of the block, on the other side of the street behind that red Mustang. Do you see the dark-gray Lincoln Town Car?”
“Yes,” Lily told him, her body tensing as she spied the two men sitting inside the vehicle.
“I noticed them when I drove up to your place. I thought at the time that they didn’t look like they belonged in this neighborhood, but I figured they were probably visitors in town for Mardi Gras and were waiting for someone. But they’re still there. The car hasn’t moved, and neither have they.”
Lily’s stomach pitched as she listened to Michael. She could feel the color drain from her face. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. How long had they been there? she wondered. Had they been there when she’d left this morning with Timmy? Could they have followed her to Gertie’s? No. No, if they had and they worked for Adam, surely they would have grabbed both her and Timmy then.
“The beefy guy in the passenger seat either has a pair of binoculars or some kind of camera. Whichever it is, he’s got it aimed in this direction, because I saw the sunlight reflecting off the lens a minute ago.”
Oh, God, she thought. What was she going to do?
“Do you recognize them?” Michael asked her.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Adam…my husband has a lot of people working for him. I wouldn’t recognize half of them.” And if they caught her and found out where Timmy was, Adam would have her son killed.
“If they do work for him, and they haven’t grabbed you yet, there’s a reason. My guess is they’re waiting for instructions.”
Or they were waiting for Adam himself, Lily thought.
“Whatever the reason, we’re going to have to try to lose them.”
Lily looked over at him, recalled those few moments in his arms the previous night. He was a good man, she thought. Too good to drag into this mess. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Michael. Really I do. But it would be better for both of us if you just got out of the car now and let me handle this myself.”
“How do you plan to do that? We both know the minute you move, those two goons are going to be on you. Do you really think you’re going to be able to outrun them in this heap, get Timmy and escape?”
“I’ve done it before,” she defended. “Do you think those two are the only ones he’s sent to bring me back? I outwitted the others and got away. I’ll do it again.” She simply had to. For Timmy’s sake.
“Not this time. You can bet they aren’t going to let you just drive away. Those two will be on you before you even get to the corner. At least with me here with you, they might not be so quick to grab you.”
“Adam will kill you if he finds out you helped me.”
“I was a cop, remember? I don’t kill easy. Now, buckle your seat belt,” he told her. “Damn! This would have been a lot easier if we were in my truck.”
“What?” she asked, not following his line of thought.
“We would have had a better chance of outrunning that Li
ncoln with my truck. But it’s too late for us to switch vehicles now without giving them a heads up. So we’ll have to improvise. How fast will this baby go?”
“I…I don’t know. I don’t usually drive faster than the speed limit.”
“Great,” he muttered. “Have you ever had her out on the interstate?”
“Yes, a number of times. Why?”
“The speed limit’s seventy. You had any trouble getting her to hit it?”
“No. In fact, a couple of times I went a little over eighty without realizing it. And I just had it tuned up about a week ago.”
“Well, at least that’s in our favor,” he said, more to himself than to her. “What kind of driver are you?”
“Good. Why?”
“Because in a minute, you’re going to start the engine. And then you’re going to pull away from the curb real casual like as though nothing is wrong. We don’t want Curly and Moe back there to know we’ve spotted them. All right, go ahead, start the engine.”
Lily did as he said. A glance in her rearview mirror and the puff of smoke from the exhaust told her that the driver of the gray Lincoln had started his engine, as well.
“All right. I want you to take your time and just mosey on down the street like you have all the time in the world. Turn right at the corner and head for the intersection. Keep going slow and time your speed so that when you get to the corner, you catch the red light.”
She did as Michael instructed, moving slowly, so that as she turned and approached the intersection at the corner where the traffic was thicker, the light turned yellow.
“Don’t follow the other cars through the yellow. Stop and wait for the light to turn red. You want to be first in line at the light.”
Lily followed his instructions—her car was the first in line.
“Okay, you’re doing fine. Our guys are three cars in back of us now. Put on your right-turn signal so that our guys know where we’re going.”