Gail uttered a bitter laugh. “Oh, you’d be surprised how many people are ready to believe it.”
“Then they’re all fools.” Polly sent a quick glance over at the door. “You did say the marshal was going to keep an eye on the place?”
“Yes.” Gail felt a spasm of guilt. “I’m sorry, Polly. I really didn’t want to drag you into all this. To be honest, I don’t think Mike would be stupid enough to walk into the shop in broad daylight. He knows the police will be on the lookout for him. I think he’s more likely to break into my house and wait for me to get home.”
Polly’s expression darkened. “Well, I certainly hope you’re not going back there. You and Annie are welcome to stay with me until this monster is caught.”
Gail felt like hugging the older woman. “Annie’s with Darcie. She’s going to stay there until this is over. But thanks, Polly, I really appreciate the offer.”
Polly studied her with a shrewd look. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Gail turned away and pretended to be intensely interested in a pile of calendars on the counter. “As a matter of fact, Blake will be staying in the house for the next few days. Just for protection, of course.”
“Of course,” Polly murmured, sounding thoughtful. “How do you feel about that?”
“Well, I’ll miss Annie, of course,” Gail said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “But I’ll feel better knowing she’ll be safer there.” She picked up a leaflet lying beside the calendars. “Is this the new list of trades?”
“Yes, it is,” Polly said dryly. “And I’ll shut up with the questions. But if you need anything at all, promise you’ll let me know.”
Gail gave her a grateful smile. “I’ll do that.”
She thought about Polly’s question later, as she stacked some new children’s titles on the shelves. The truth was, she didn’t know exactly how she felt about being in the house alone with Blake.
On the one hand, it was infinitely preferable to being there alone, jumping at every sound and wondering just when Mike might find his way into the house.
On the other hand, she would find it impossible to relax around Blake. She would have to be on guard the whole time, or she might give him some indication of how she felt about him and the devastating effect he had on her. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself with him again.
All she could hope was that this intolerable situation would be over soon. What with worrying when Mike might turn up, and how Heather was doing without her—not to mention her unpredictable reactions to Blake’s every word or movement—if this thing wasn’t over within the next few hours, her nerves were bound to snap. She didn’t care to dwell on what might happen then.
All afternoon she was on edge, jumping at the slightest sound from the door. Once, when Polly came upon her unexpectedly, she let out a little yelp and backed into the shelves behind her, sending a pile of books scattering over the floor:
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” Polly asked, as she helped Gail pick up the books and rearrange them on the shelf.
“No, I really don’t.” She sent Polly a quick glance. “I’m sorry, Polly. I’ll try to be less jumpy.”
“I’m not surprised you’re jumpy. What you’re facing is enough to make anyone a nervous wreck. I even find myself checking out everyone who walks past the window.”
“I’m sorry,” Gail said again, now wishing that she hadn’t listened to Blake and told Polly the whole story. “Would you rather I didn’t come in tomorrow? There’s no sense in you being scared half to death.”
Polly made a sound of disgust. “Scared? I’m not scared. I’d just like to get my hands on the bastard, that’s all. I’d like to string him up by his heels over a heap of hot coals until he hollered for mercy.”
Gail almost smiled at the image of Polly standing over Mike, giving him a piece of her mind. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. Mike is an evil man, and not too stable. There’s no telling what he’ll do to get what he wants.”
Polly patted her arm. “Well, don’t you fret, child. Your marshal will take good care of you, I’m sure of that.”
Her marshal, Gail thought with a wry smile. That couldn’t be further from the truth. If only she could have Polly’s confidence that everything would turn out all right. But then Polly didn’t know Mike the way she did. Polly hadn’t seen the way Mike’s eyes gleamed with cruelty, or the way his mouth curled into a vicious grin as he’d explained just what he would do to her when he caught up with her.
Shuddering, she blocked the memories from her mind. She wouldn’t let Mike’s sleazy threats prey on her imagination, for that would weaken her already shaky confidence. Polly was right; Blake would handle things, and she needed every ounce of her courage not to make things difficult for him.
At last it was time to shut up shop, and Gail put in a call to Darcie before leaving. She was anxious to know how Heather had adjusted to the arrangement.
To her intense relief, Heather seemed quite happy to be staying with her friends, although she sounded wistful when she said, “I wish you could be here, too, Mommy.”
“So do I, honey, but it won’t be long, I promise, and then you’ll be coming home again. If you’re really good I’ll have a surprise waiting for you when you get home.”
After saying good-night to her daughter, Gail pulled on her coat and joined Polly at the door. It was dark outside and snowing heavily. As the two of them stepped out onto the silent street she peered into the shadows, trying to detect anything that might suggest someone lurking in a doorway.
“Where’s the marshal?” Polly asked, staring hard at Gail’s car across the road.
“I hope he’s close by.” Gail took her arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car first.”
They crossed the street at a brisk pace, while Gail’s heart pumped furiously. She expected any minute to hear a shout, or to feel a bullet thudding into her back the way one had slammed into Frank’s chest at point-blank range.
By the time she and Polly reached the parking spot, her knees felt so weak she was surprised they were holding her up.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Polly said, as they stood beside her car. “You will be all right, won’t you?”
“I’ll be fine.” She hoped her voice hadn’t sounded as shaky as she felt. She waited, trembling in the cold wind; until her friend had unlocked her car and climbed in. Then, pulling her coat collar higher up her neck, Gail walked as naturally as she dared over to her own car.
The important thing, she reminded herself, was to make everything look normal. If Mike was hidden somewhere, watching her, she didn’t want to give him any indication that she was expecting him.
She glanced inside the car, her heart thumping with anticipation. To her utter dismay the front seats were empty. She could see no sign of Blake.
For a moment panic almost overwhelmed her. Visions plunged into her mind of all the movies she’d seen where the car blew up when the door was opened. She took a shaky breath and fought back the fear, willing herself to fit her key into the lock.
It took her a moment or two, but then the lock snapped up. Carefully, she opened the door.
Chapter 8
She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she heard Blake’s voice speak from the back seat.
“Get in fast and close the door.”
She threw herself in behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. “Is he here? Can you see him?”
“No, at least I don’t think so. I’ve been keeping watch all afternoon and I haven’t seen anything.”
She relaxed her shoulders. “You scared me. I thought he was out there.”
“Sorry. I’m freezing to death and I didn’t want to let any more cold air into the car.”
She couldn’t see him in the rearview mirror. He had to be hunched down behind the seat, the way he was when he’d hidden in her car the night before. She switched on the engine and turned up the heater. “Did you get
the steaks?” It seemed odd to be talking about such mundane things as food, but it seemed important to hold on to some semblance of normality.
“I got steaks, salad and bread. And I’m starving, so let’s go home.”
Let’s go home. Right then, she couldn’t think of anything she would rather do. She pulled out onto the road. Driving slowly in the swirling snowflakes, she cast a furtive glance at every shop doorway on both sides of the street. Once she reached the edge of town she began to relax. If Mike Stevens was in Mellow Springs, he certainly wasn’t on Main Street
Blake must have decided the same thing, as he sat up with a slight groan that told her his cramped muscles were complaining.
She could see him now in the mirror. His gaze was concentrated on the road, and his face looked pinched in the brief glare from oncoming headlights.
“Are you still cold?” She reached for the heater and turned it up higher.
“My teeth have been playing the national anthem for the past half hour.”
“I’m sorry.” She glanced at him again in the mirror. “Do you have any more news?”
He shook his head. “None. Stevens is either lying low somewhere, waiting for a chance to move, or he’s on to me and heading in another direction.”
She sighed. “What do we do now?”
“Wait another two or three days, then if nothing goes down we’ll have to change our tactics.”
That had sounded ominous. She decided to wait until she got home before asking him what he meant.
“Did you check in with Darcie?”
His obvious concern for her daughter was comforting. “Yes, and Heather’s fine. Darcie said she’s settling down well. I just hope she doesn’t get homesick too soon.”
“With any luck, this’ll all be over before that happens.” He paused, his gaze still on the road. “How did things go with Polly?”
“All right.” She wrestled with the wheel at the curve, then relaxed her grip. “I told her the whole story. She was very understanding and sympathetic.”
“Good. We could use an ally.”
Again she glanced up and this time her pulse leaped when she met his intent gaze. “You really think he’ll come here? Or do you think perhaps he changed his mind?”
“I think he’ll come. Just about every unit between here and the border is on the lookout for him. He won’t get too far without someone spotting him.”
“Will the police pick him up if they spot him?”
“They’ll notify me first.”
She nodded, trying her best to calm the insistent fluttering in her stomach.
“I might as well tell you now,” Blake said quietly. “We think he was spotted a few miles south of here at least four days ago. Someone held up a gas station in Bedmonton. It sounded like our man.”
“When did you hear this?”
“Last night, when I called in my report.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you without good reason. They’re not really sure it was Stevens.”
She felt a flash of irritation. “Well, from now on, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me everything that’s going on. I think I have a right to know.”
He was silent for a while, and she fought to control her resentment, aware that her shattered nerves were making her irritable.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “You do have a right to know. From now on I’ll keep you informed of everything I get.”
“Thank you.” Aware of the frostiness in her voice she made an effort to thaw it. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
“Understandable under the circumstances. Feel free to yell at me if it will make you feel better.”
“It won’t, but thanks for the invitation.” She glimpsed his flash of amusement in the mirror and felt better.
They finished the trip in silence, while she tried to think how best to pass the evening hours until she could escape to her bedroom. Television seemed the best bet. She wondered what kind of programs he liked to watch. Sports, more than likely.
Football season was over, and it was too early for baseball. She resigned herself to a long evening.
Pulling into the driveway a little later, she switched off the car engine. Some of the tension seemed to be easing from her clenched muscles, but then his next words made her flesh creep.
“I want you to go up to the front door and act as naturally as possible. Don’t look around, and don’t try to hurry.”
She nodded, but his reflection had vanished from the mirror. Aware that he must have slid down behind the seat again, she said quietly, “All right. But what do I do then? Just walk in the house? What if he’s in there, waiting for me?”
“No, don’t go in. Just open the door then step back. I’ll go in first.”
She climbed out of the car, feeling as if she were walking along the very edge of a steep cliff. The house watched her in silence, its windows dark and blank. It had never looked so unwelcoming.
Snow covered the front step, and she paused for a moment as she reached it, her ears straining for any unusual sound. All she could hear was the wind in the branches, and the swish of tires on the road behind her.
Bracing herself, she slid the key into the lock and turned it. The click sounded as loud as a gunshot. The door swung open, and she stepped back, pressing herself against the wall of the porch.
She hadn’t heard Blake get out of the car, but he slipped past her—a stealthy shadow as silent as the night around her. She waited, leaning against the hard wall, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
The sudden movement from the darkened hallway froze her breath, then light flooded the doorway, making her blink.
“It’s all clear,” Blake said, reaching for her arm. “Come inside. You look about ready to collapse.”
“I’m okay.” Glad to see him, she managed a shaky laugh. “I feel as if I’m acting a part in a bad movie.” She stepped past him into the welcome warmth of the hallway.
“Sorry, but it’s necessary. Wait there a moment. I’ll get the groceries.” He disappeared, then returned a moment later carrying a sack.
She closed the door behind him, then followed him down to the kitchen, switching on lights as she went. She wasn’t entirely convinced by his assurances yet, and the brightness seemed essential to banish whatever might lurk in the shadows.
“I don’t know about you but I could use a drink,” she said shakily, as Blake set the bag down on the kitchen table.
“I’m way ahead of you.” He pulled out a bottle of wine and held it up for her inspection. “I don’t usually drink on duty, but I’m always willing to make an exception. Chablis all right?”
“Chablis sounds wonderful.” She couldn’t help wondering if he’d found it necessary to remind her that he was here in her house for the purpose of carrying out his job and nothing more.
She crossed the kitchen and reached into a cupboard for a couple of glasses. Setting them down on the counter, she said lightly, “I’ll let you do the honors while I take off my coat and get comfortable.”
She hadn’t meant the comment to sound quite so intimate. Or maybe she was simply overreacting to the situation, seeing pitfalls that weren’t really there. Without looking at him to see his reaction, she muttered, “I’ll be right back,” and escaped to her bedroom.
She changed into jeans and a pale blue sweater, ran a comb through her hair and dashed a lipstick over her mouth. When she returned to the kitchen he was sitting at the table, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and two full glasses of wine set in front of him.
“Sit and relax with this for a moment,” he said, as she started to pull things out of the grocery sack.
“I thought you were hungry.” She took out the steaks and the bag of salad greens and put them in the fridge.
“I am, but we both need to unwind first.”
She wasn’t at all sure she would be able to unwind, drinking wine with him i
n the quiet intimacy of her kitchen. She sat down and picked up her glass. “Cheers. Here’s to happier times.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She watched him take a sip of wine. The beginnings of a beard darkened his jaw, and she could see faint circles under his eyes. Strain had deepened the grooves between his brows and at the corners of his mouth. He looked tired, and just a little ruthless. She could guess how seriously he took the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
She felt a sudden surge of tenderness, and wished she could just hold him, let him rest his head on her shoulder while she smoothed away the worry lines with her fingers.
Afraid of where that line of thinking might take her, she rested her back against the chair and picked a safe topic of conversation. “How long have you been a U.S. Marshal?”
“Not that long. I was with the DEA until about four years ago.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That must have been stressful.”
“It was.” He grabbed his glass and shot a mouthful of wine down his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
Aware that he was deliberately changing the subject, she wondered why he was so unwilling to talk about his past. “You can ask,” she said, “but I’m not guaranteeing an answer.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I was just wondering why you married Frank Stevens. You don’t exactly strike me as the kind of woman who’d be interested in a man like that.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
“Thank you.” She met his gaze briefly, then stared at her glass, slowly twirling the stern between her fingers. “I married Frank because I was looking for a father for my baby.”
“Heather’s not his child?”
“Oh, yes, she’s Frank’s child.” She struggled for a moment with her own reluctance to share her memories. She had never discussed her past with anyone. Even if she’d been tempted to tell Frank, he’d never shown any interest in her background.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it now. But somehow she knew that Blake would understand. He was hurting from the past, too, she could tell. Much as she hated to admit it, she was intensely interested in knowing what or who had built the wall that shielded him so effectively.
Every Waking Moment Page 14