He had better remember that, he told himself, the next time he felt himself getting hot over Gail Stevens. If he found this job repulsive, he could at least tell himself he was doing it for the kid.
He let the drapes fall back into place, and went back to the armchair. An earnest-looking man peered back at him from the TV set, attempting to explain to him how to get rid of his graying hair.
Blake ran his fingers across his temples. This job would probably turn him completely white, he thought in disgust. Here he was, fantasizing over a woman who was planning to go on the run with a convicted killer. Not only that, she was going to drag her kid into the whole ugly mess.
He could forgive her just about anything but that. She had no right to destroy her daughter’s life in that way. It was a purely selfish move, and that was why he found it so damn hard to understand. She just didn’t seem the type.
He wished to God that it was all over, and that he was on his way to Parkerville with Stevens in cuffs. Maybe then he would get some peace of mind. He couldn’t go on with this cover much longer. The way she affected him, sooner or later he would slip up. And then he would probably have to get rough. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
He thought he might have let something slip at lunch earlier, judging from the scared look on her face. But then she’d explained about the headache—
Blake’s feet hit the carpet as he shoved himself upright. That headache had come on pretty damn suddenly. Now that he thought about it, she’d sounded real uptight when he’d spoken to her on the phone.
The back of his neck started tingling, the way it always did when he sensed something out of whack. He glanced up at the clock. Almost five. She should be picking up Heather right about now.
He grabbed the phone book, struggling with his elusive memory. Dammit, he’d only been introduced to her that morning. Richards...Redford...Reynolds. That was it.
He found it listed, much to his relief. Punching out the numbers, he prayed he was wrong. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Darcie,” he said pleasantly. “I was wondering if Kate has picked up Annie yet? I thought I’d take them both out to dinner.”
His stomach dropped when Darcie said warily, “Kate was here an hour ago.”
He fought to keep his voice calm. “She took Annie home?”
“Yes, she went home to pack. She’s taking Annie to California. She didn’t tell you?”
He thought fast. “Yes, she did, but I didn’t think she was leaving until tomorrow.” His shot in the dark worked. Darcie sounded obviously relieved when she answered.
“Oh, so she did tell you. She said she was leaving in the morning, but I guess she wanted Annie to help her pack.”
“More than likely. I’ll catch them at home. Thanks, Darcie.” He dropped the phone. An hour ago. He could only pray he made it in time. Cursing, he grabbed his jacket and slammed out of the room.
“Can I take my dolly’s house?” Heather dragged the house out from the cupboard, spilling doll’s furniture across the floor.
“Oh, no, honey, we won’t have room in the car. We’ll just take Fuzzy, and some books to look at.” Gail squatted down to pick up the toys.
“What about my tricycle?”
“No, honey, just the books.”
Heather started to whine. “I want to take my tricycle.”
Worried that her tension might be communicating itself to the little girl, Gail did her best to smile. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll take your camera and you can take lots of pictures. And we’ll take your talking farm with us, too. I think we’ve got room for that.”
Reluctantly Heather gave up her hold on the tricycle. “When are we going to get a sundae?”
“We’ll stop on the way out. I promise.” Gail pushed her daughter’s arms into her jacket, then pulled on her woolly cap. “There. That should keep you warm. I’ve made up a bed for you in the back seat of the car, so that you can go to sleep there. We have a long, long way to go and you’ll be really sleepy before we get there.”
“I don’t wanna go to sleep.” Heather yawned. “I’m hungry.”
And tired enough to fall asleep quickly, Gail thought hopefully. “We’ll get a hamburger and you can eat it in the car.”
Heather’s eyes lit up at this unexpected treat. Normally she wasn’t allowed to eat in the car. “And a sundae?”
Gail sighed. “Yes, and a sundae. But you’ll have to be extra careful not to spill it. Mommy’s going to be driving and I won’t have time to clean you up.”
She grabbed Heather’s hand and led her out to the car. The snow was barely covering the pavement. With any luck she would reach the freeway before it got too bad.
Shivering from nervousness more than from the cold, she opened the back door of the car and settled Heather inside. The cases were already stowed in the trunk. All she had to do now was turn off the lights, grab her purse and they could be on their way.
“Now you wait here for a minute, honey,” she told Heather as she tucked the blanket around her. “I just have to go back into the house for a minute, then we can go get your hamburger.”
“I have to go potty,” Heather announced.
Gail held on to her failing patience. “You can go when we get to the hamburger place,” she said firmly. “Now wait there a minute while I go and lock up.”
Back inside the house, she felt an aching sense of loss as she took a last look around the neat living room. The bright yellow cushions she’d made for the shabby brown couch and the matching curtains she’d painstakingly sewn for the windows, Heather’s dollhouse she’d bought for her birthday, and which had cost her half a week’s salary, the little cross-stitch pictures on the walls—she might never see any of those things again.
This had been her home for less than a year, but it had become very special to her. She would miss Mellow Springs. She had been happy here—happier than she ever remembered. It was so hard to leave.
A surge of bitter resentment brought tears to her eyes. Damn Mike Stevens. Damn herself for ever getting involved with the Stevens brothers. And damn Blake Foster for tearing apart her life once more. Would it never be over?
Sniffing, she turned off the light and headed for the front door. This time she didn’t look back as she stepped outside once more into the swirling snowflakes and slammed the door behind her.
She couldn’t seem to stop the tears from pooling in her eyes, and she kept her face turned away from Heather as she climbed behind the wheel.
“Hello, Mommy,” Heather said, in the voice she always used when she was into mischief.
Too dispirited to deal with her daughter right then, Gail decided that she couldn’t do too much harm in the back there. “Okay,” she said unsteadily, “we’re off.”
Heather giggled behind her, and Gail forced herself to relax. She might be overreacting to this whole situation, she told herself, but now that she was actually on the road, she felt a good deal more at ease.
If she was wrong about Blake, and he wasn’t working for Mike, then he would probably be hurt to find out that she’d just taken off without telling him.
But then he’d told her he was planning on going back to Seattle soon, without saying anything about keeping in touch with her. He would miss her, he’d said. Like he would miss the snow, or the mountain air. She was nothing more than a pleasant interlude in his life, as quickly forgotten as his first sled ride down the bunny slopes.
Heather giggled again behind her. Gail flicked a glance in the rearview mirror, but her daughter’s head was below the level of the reflected image. “What are you doing back there?” she demanded, trying to remember what she’d put in the back seat with Heather. Nothing destructible, she was sure about that.
“I’m not doing nothing, Mommy.”
“Anything,” Gail corrected automatically. Heather had sounded entirely too innocent, and she frowned. She couldn’t imagine what mischief Heather could be up to, but she knew her daughter’s tone of voice
. “We’ll stop for a hamburger down the street,” she said, “but only if you are good. Mommy has to watch the road, so I hope you are being a good girl back there.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Heather replied, giggling again.
Gail was beginning to squirm. Something was going on back there with her daughter, and she needed to know what it was. She waited until she reached a straight stretch of road, then slowed the car enough so that she could turn far enough around to see what Heather was doing.
Shock slammed into her chest when she saw the shadowy figure seated in the corner directly behind her. He must have been leaning close to the door to avoid being seen in the rearview mirror.
Her breath stopped in her throat, and she felt as though she’d plunged into an icy lake. Her foot automatically slammed on the brake, sending the car fishtailing across the road.
Momentarily distracted, she fought the wheel, her stomach heaving with shock. Regaining control of the car, she shifted her gaze back to the rearview mirror. One single thought drummed in her brain. Her daughter was strapped into the back seat next to a man who could very well be a cold-blooded killer.
Chapter 6
She could see his face now, glowing for an instant in the reflection from the oncoming lights. “Hi,” he said softly, his familiar voice sending chills down her spine. “You, of all people, should know better than to get into a car without checking out the back seat.”
“I knowed he was there all the time,” Heather announced, sounding as if she was thoroughly enjoying the game. “I promised I wouldn’t tell, and I didn’t, did I, Uncle Blake?”
Gail stared into Blake’s cold gray eyes reflected in the mirror, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Her mind skittered about, trying to make sense of what was happening.
He couldn’t intend to hurt Heather, he just couldn’t. In spite of all her doubts, now that she was face-to-face with him again, nothing in the world would make her believe that.
The snowflakes seemed thicker now, chasing each other across the windshield to escape the sweep of the wipers. She could feel the back wheels slipping on the curves, but she kept her foot on the accelerator, praying she could keep the car under control.
Once more her gaze flicked up at the mirror. Blake’s grim expression chilled her to the bone. She was acutely aware of his strength and power. She would be no match for him if he did make a move to hurt her.
She made herself meet his gaze. “Who are you?” she muttered. “What the hell do you want with me?”
Apparently sensing something wrong, Heather said in a worried voice, “He’s Uncle Blake, Mommy. He got in here to s’rprise us.”
“Well, he surprised me, all right.” She glared at him in the mirror. “Is your name really Blake Foster, or was that strictly for my benefit?”
Blake’s smile looked bleak, and she was totally unprepared for his answer.
“My name is really Blake Foster,” he said, with just a trace of irony. “U.S. Marshal, to be precise. Since you’re on your way to meet Mike Stevens, I thought I’d invite myself to the joyful reunion. I wouldn’t advise any tricks, by the way. I didn’t exactly come empty-handed, if you know what I mean.”
The obvious reference to the fact that he was armed only vaguely registered. Stunned, she simply stared at his reflection in the mirror. She saw him turn to Heather and smile down at her, transforming his face into that of the man she’d thought she knew.
“You did a great job, Heather,” he said softly. “I’m real proud of you.”
Heather sounded puzzled when she said, “My name’s Annie. Nobody calls me Heather anymore.”
“I’m sorry. Annie.”
Gail heard the exchange, but barely comprehended it. Her mind whirled with the implications of what he’d just told her.
Dear God, he wasn’t the enemy. He was a cop. Her heart leaped with a relief that made her giddy. She hadn’t been wrong about him after all. He was everything she’d thought he was. And so much more.
Even as she basked in his startling confession, her mind slowly absorbed the last part of his statement. Her joy evaporated like melting snow. It wasn’t over, after all. He was just like the rest of them—he thought she was involved with Mike Stevens.
Drawing in a long, deep breath, she slowed the car and pulled off onto the shoulder. She couldn’t see his face quite so clearly now that they were out of the glare of lights, and she needed to see him. She needed him to see her, as well.
Reaching up, she flicked on the overhead light, then turned in her seat to face him.
He watched her, his eyes full of suspicion, his mouth a tight, grim line. “I’d advise you to keep going,” he said, his voice low and full of quiet menace: “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”
Conscious of Heather seated beside him, she took a moment or two to rehearse her words carefully in her mind. “I think you and I need to get something straight,” she said at last. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had my say.”
His narrowed gaze warned her clearly that he didn’t want to discuss it.
“Mike Stevens,” she said, ignoring the threat, “is behind bars in an Oregon prison. He is the very last man on this earth I would want to see.”
“Is that right?”
She saw the look of skepticism flicker across his face. Obviously he didn’t believe her. Well, that was nothing new. Nobody had believed her story. But this was different. Somehow she had to convince him of her innocence. It was desperately important to her.
She felt a swift rush of relief at the realization that she could go home again, after all. “I think we should go back to the house,” she said, sending a meaningful glance in Heather’s direction. “I would like the chance to explain.”
“Oh, you’ll explain, all right.”
“This isn’t exactly a good place or time to do that.” Again she glanced at Heather, who was now fidgeting in her seat.
Blake stared at her, his eyes mere slits of steel gray. Her heart ached when she saw the cold indifference on his face. He had to believe her. She had to make him believe her.
She smiled at her daughter, who was watching her with apprehension on her small face. “I think it’s time we went back and got that hamburger and hot fudge sundae, don’t you?”
Heather, apparently reassured, nodded vigorously. “Is Uncle Blake coming with us to Canada?”
Gail noticed Blake’s swift reaction to her question. “No,” she said quickly. “I think it’s a little late to drive all that way tonight, and it’s beginning to snow quite hard.”
“I wanna go to Canada.” Heather yawned. “I want Uncle Blake to come with us to Canada.”
“I think we should all go to Canada,” Blake said, a little too quietly.
His insistence puzzled her. Did he seriously think she was going to meet Frank’s brother? Surely he knew that Mike was in prison?
Or was he? The frightening implications of that thought shot her newfound security to shreds. Anxious now to learn the truth, she met his gaze. “I think we should go home and discuss this in private.”
He sat for a long time, obviously weighing things over in his mind. Finally, he gave her a quick nod. “All right, we’ll go back. But it won’t make any difference. We’ll get him just the same.”
She frowned, a very real fear once more beginning to take root at his terse comment.
Blake turned to Heather and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “Okay, squirt, let’s go get that hamburger.” He looked back at Gail, and the warning was clear in his eyes. “Drive carefully, and no side trips. Got it?”
She felt as if ice were forming around her heart. He sounded so cold, so indifferent. She was reminded of the first time she’d seen him, and her impression of him—deep, dark and dangerous.
She knew now where that power came from. He was the law. And because of that, maybe he was still the enemy, after all. Her heart sank at the thought.
Her mind wrestled with the problem all the way back t
o the house. How could she hope to convince him when she hadn’t been able to convince the rest of them, not even the people she’d worked with, or Frank’s associates—the people who knew her well?
She had to try, she told herself. She was tired of turning the other cheek. She was sick of running away. This time she was going to stand and fight—for her integrity, and self-esteem. Because, for the first time in her life, it really mattered to her what people thought of her. And, one special man’s opinion of her mattered a great deal.
Somehow, she vowed silently as she drove back through the steadily falling snow, she would make Blake believe in her. Maybe then, she could finally believe in herself.
She stopped the car at the drive-in restaurant and after taking Heather to the bathroom, picked up a hamburger and sundae for her. Blake refused her offer to order him something and she was too strung out to eat anything.
They reached the house at last, having spent several minutes in silence. Heather, who had eaten half the hamburger and a spoonful of the sundae, was fast asleep in the back, and barely managed a groggy protest as Blake carried her into the house.
Gail followed close behind him, her heart thumping with uncertain fear. It had occurred to her that he must have had a very good reason to come all the way out here after her. It couldn’t be just a case of trying to prove she’d lied about Frank’s death. After all, she’d been acquitted on that score and she was pretty sure she couldn’t be tried again.
It had to be something far more serious. She tried not to think about it as she tucked Heather into her bed and kissed her good-night.
Blake was waiting for her in the living room when she went back downstairs. Somehow, seeing him sitting on her couch now, his hands tucked between his knees and his expression uncompromising, he seemed a stranger—a formidable, dangerous stranger. It was as if the days they’d spent together had never been.
She hovered in the doorway, passionately hoping that she was wrong in her suspicion. “Would you like coffee? Something to eat?”
Every Waking Moment Page 10