Every Waking Moment

by Doreen Roberts

  He stumbled, and for a moment, loosened his grip on her throat. Using his momentum, she grasped his arm and hauled him forward. Cursing, he sprawled on the floor in front of her.

  He made a grab for her foot, but she sprang back. Her foot hit the floor and she twisted around, then hurtled for the cabin door. The handle turned easily and she hauled the door open, just as deafening bang exploded behind her and a bullet thudded into the woodwork above her head.

  With a squeak of fright she raced down the steps. She heard Mike’s angry bellow behind her and knew she had no time to get to the car. With an agility she never knew she had, she plunged across the clearing and into the trees.

  Leaping and stumbling, with her hands and face scratched and torn by the undergrowth, she ran until she could run no more. She fell in a sobbing, panting heap into a mound of wet snow and lay there, fighting for air. When she could finally breathe without pain again, she carefully sat up and listened.

  The forest buzzed with noise. Squeaks, chirps and chattering echoed in the majestic firs, accompanied by endless shifting and rustling among the undergrowth. A twig snapped nearby and she was instantly alert, her heart palpitating with anxiety.

  As quietly as she could manage, she slid farther into the undergrowth, sheltering behind a thick, prickly shrub. She couldn’t feel her feet, her hair hung in damp strands across her face and she couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

  She waited as the seconds ticked by, fearful of hearing the sound of Mike’s footsteps. After a while her muscles screamed out to move as the cold slowed down her circulation.

  Was it her imagination or was it growing darker? The thought of being alone in the cold, wet forest after dark filled her with dread. Yet, her common sense told her that the darkness would give her the protection she needed.

  She wasn’t going to be able to move, however, if she didn’t get the circulation back into her limbs. Painfully, easing up an inch at a time, she climbed to her feet. Her toes felt as if a thousand bugs were crawling over them as she stamped them on the ground to get some warmth back in them.

  Her coat felt heavy on her shoulders, and she knew it was wet through. She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit there and freeze to death.

  She tried to figure out in which direction the road lay. In her mad dash through the trees, she’d lost all sense of where she was heading. The heavy storm clouds gave her no hint of where the sun might be. She would have to find the lake, she decided, and get her bearings from there.

  Following one of the trails seemed to be the best bet, and she set off through the trees, hoping she could spot a trail beneath the snow. She realized then that it had stopped snowing. At least that was something.

  She remembered reading somewhere that it was possible to smell water. She lifted her nose and breathed in the cold air. She could smell nothing but damp pine and rotting wood. She turned around, hoping to detect something different from another direction. Without warning, a man stepped out from the trees a few yards ahead of her.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Mike said, “it’s about time you came home.”

  Her reaction was entirely automatic. She whirled around and started running. The first bullet whizzed into the trees to her left. She heard it ricochet twice.

  Stumbling over a protruding root, she fell to her knees. The second bullet zinged by, far too close to her ear.

  “The next one’s gonna open up your head if you don’t stop!” Mike roared.

  She scrambled to her feet, but even as she did so, she knew she was too tired to run anymore. She waited, with a dull sense of resignation, for him to reach her. When he grabbed her arm and twisted it she made no sound. She was beyond protest now. Beyond hope.

  Mike gave her a shove, sending her stumbling forward: “We’re going back to the house,” he said, his voice harsh and grating, “and then you’re gonna give me what I want.”

  She willed her feet to move, feeling as if she were watching her own actions from a long way off. No matter what she did now, it wasn’t going to help. She was going to die out here, and Heather would have to grow up without her.

  “Get a move on, bitch,” Mike snarled, giving her another jab in the back. “Too bad your boyfriend isn’t here to see this. I could really make him squirm.”

  “Is that right,” a deep voice said, almost at her elbow.

  She thought at first that she was hallucinating. She froze, afraid to trust her fragile senses. She heard Mike swear, and slowly, not daring to believe, she turned around.

  Mike stood with his hands in the air, the gun dangling uselessly from his fingers. Blake stood right beside him, his feet braced solidly apart, his own gun pressed securely, and none too gently, against Mike’s temple.

  He shot a glance in her direction. “Are you all right? If he’s so much as touched you, I’ll—”

  “I’m okay.” She was crying, silently, the tears rolling down her cheeks and falling into the trodden snow. With the possible exception of her daughter’s birth, she had never seen a more beautiful sight in her entire life.

  With a swift movement of his hand, Blake reached up and took the weapon from Mike’s unresisting fingers. “You’re going to be real sorry you did this,” he said, sounding every bit as vicious as Mike had earlier.

  “How did you f-find me?” Her teeth were chattering so badly she could hardly form the words.

  “We have mastermind here to thank for that,” Blake said grimly, sending Mike stumbling past her with a savage. thrust. “He was so eager to take potshots at you, he advertised his exact location.” He gave Mike another violent shove. “Lucky for you those damn bullets missed, you bastard, or you’d be talking out of a hole in your head right now.”

  “Yeah?” Mike muttered sullenly. “Then you’d go down for murder, lover boy.”

  “I don’t think so.” Blake glanced at Gail, who was doing her best to mop up her face with a wet tissue. “I see you didn’t tell him.”

  She managed a shaky smile. “He didn’t ask.”

  His answering wink did more to warm her than a raging fire.

  “What the hell are you nattering about?” Mike demanded. “You’d better watch out, lover boy. You could be in real trouble, waving that piece around. It’s against the law, you know.”

  “Not if you’re a cop,” Blake said cheerfully.

  Mike looked stunned, then uttered a terse oath. “I should’ve frigging known.”

  Blake handed his gun to Gail, who took it in her trembling fingers. “Shoot him if he makes a move.”

  It was the first time she’d held a gun. It felt smooth, warm and almost comforting in her hands—a very different prospect from when she’d stared down the barrel of Mike’s revolver.

  She leveled both hands around the grip and pointed it at Mike’s belly. “It will be my pleasure,” she said evenly. She enjoyed the sudden look of apprehension in Mike’s eyes.

  She watched Blake fish out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and snap them onto Mike’s wrists. Now, at last, she could really begin to relax. All at once she felt incredibly weary, as if her eyelids were made of lead.

  Blake took the gun from her, which was just as well, she thought, since she wasn’t at all sure she would be able to use it. He started off through the trees, roughly propelling Mike ahead of him.

  Listening to the solid crunch of their footsteps in the snow, she marveled at how silently he had come up behind Mike on the trail. Following directly behind him, she let out her breath as the lake suddenly came into view. She’d been so close. Another few yards and she would have found it.

  Darkness was closing in rapidly now; she could barely see the outline of the cabins. She thanked God for the comforting presence of Blake striding along in front of her. She could just make out the shape of a car in front of the cabin where Mike had taken her. It had to be Blake’s car.

  She wondered if he would let her ride with him back to town, and perhaps return for her car in the morning.

  Suddenly
remembering, she said urgently, “Blake, he hurt the young man in charge of Landings’ gas station. He was lying on the floor unconscious when I left him.”

  Blake looked grim. “One more thing he’ll pay for,” he muttered. “What do you think we should do with him? It would save us all a lot of trouble if we just dumped him in the lake.”

  “Hey, you can’t do that,” Mike said, beginning to stutter. “I’ve got rights.”

  Blake laughed, a hollow sound that echoed eerily among the silent trees. “Rights? The only rights recognized out here in the wilderness are the ownership of territory and the power to defend it. I’d say you were a little short in both respects, wouldn’t you?” His tone was so unpleasant, it even made Gail’s flesh creep.

  “What are you talking about?” Mike jerked his head around to look at him. “You lay a hand on me and I’ll shout police brutality so loud you’ll hear the echo for weeks.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to take you back to town?” Blake halted, dragging Mike to a stop at the edge of the lake, just a few yards from the cabin. “What’s to stop me from pumping you full of bullets and dropping you into the lake? Who’s going to know, except Gail? And you can bet she’s not going to tell anyone after what you did to her.”

  Gail edged around him, drawing closer to the cabin. She wasn’t sure what was going on, either. Blake was making her nervous. Much as she hated Mike, and wanted to see him pay for what he’d done, she couldn’t agree to cold-blooded murder. She couldn’t imagine Blake doing something like that. If he did carry out his threat and kill Mike, then she didn’t know him very well, after all.

  Mike was beginning to panic. She heard it in his voice when he blabbered, “You’re a cop. You can’t ice me.”

  Blake took a step toward him, forcing him closer to the shore of the lake. “I’m a marshal,” he corrected coldly. “And I can do anything I damn well please.”

  “They’ll find out. They’ll know it was you.” He stumbled back as Blake moved forward again, placing him precariously close to the ice-covered water’s edge.

  “It’s more likely they’ll figure it’s one of your cronies upset with you. An escaped con on the run doesn’t have too many friends. You don’t deserve friends after what you did to Gail.”

  Mike’s voice rose. “I didn’t touch her. I swear I didn’t. Tell him, Gail. Tell him I didn’t lay a finger on you.”

  Blake moved forward once more. “Yeah, tell me, Gail. Tell me what he did to you. Why don’t you lie to me, just like he lied to the cops about you helping him murder your husband.”

  Gail’s pulse leaped. Now she knew what he was doing. And she loved him even more for it.

  “I didn’t mean to, Gail,” Mike stammered, on a note of desperation. “Honest, I didn’t. I was pissed because you turned me in. I had to tell them something, so I told them you helped me.” He backed away, his feet moving onto the ice. It creaked ominously beneath him.

  “But she didn’t help you, did she, Mike? You made it all up, just to get even.” Blake lifted his hand. The gun gleamed black against the backdrop of snow and ice.

  Still backing away, Mike shook his head and yelled, “All right, you bastard! She didn’t do it. She had nothing to do with it. I planned it all myself. Now tell him, Gail. Tell him I didn’t touch you.”

  It seemed to happen all at once. Blake turned to look at Gail—at least, she thought he was looking at her, but he might have been looking at the three deputies who had suddenly appeared from behind the cabin.

  Even as she noticed that they were there, Mike let out a howl and took off, slithering and sliding on the ice.

  Blake started after him. His yell rang out across the frozen lake. “Come back, you damn fool! You’ll go in!”

  Mike paid no attention. He just kept running. The deputies reached the shore and yelled to Blake to let him go. The ice creaked louder, then snapped, with a sound as sharp as a gunshot.

  Gail screamed as Mike seemed to stumble sideways. He slithered for several yards, his cuffed hands waving above his head. Then, in slow motion, he sank from view. His cry of horror was cut off by abrupt silence.

  Now the ice cracked and popped in all directions. Blake turned and headed for the bank. Gail screamed again as she saw his feet disappear beneath the surface of the black water.

  “Jump, man, jump!” one of the deputies yelled.

  She saw him gather himself for the leap and launch himself into the air. Her heart stopped as he seemed to fall back. Then, with a loud grunt, he flung himself forward and his fingers grazed the edge of the shore. Within seconds the deputies hauled him onto dry ground. Water poured from his wet clothes as he swept his dripping hair back from his face with his hand.

  With a cry, Gail flung herself at him and clung to him, closing her eyes as his arms folded around her. The deputies had started off at a run around the lake, searching for a sign of Mike. She shivered, knowing what the icy water would do to him.

  “I want you to go into the cabin,” Blake said, gently holding her away from him. “See if you can find something to light a fire. Then bolt the door and stay there, get yourself dried out.”

  She looked up at him, at his face pinched with cold. “What about you? You’ll freeze to death in those wet clothes.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  She clung to him, reluctant to let him go.

  “I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her cold lips. “Now go on.”

  She backed up the steps, watching him jog into the darkness, until she couldn’t see him anymore. Then she went inside the cabin and bolted the door.

  She felt her way in the darkness to the bedroom and found the oil lamp. Shaking it, she was relieved to hear the fuel sloshing around inside. At least she wouldn’t have to sit in the dark.

  Feeling for the gas lighter, she found it, and flicked it without much hope. The tiny flame flared, and she uttered a soft cheer. She lit the lamp, and found a pile of old newspapers underneath the logs, which she crumpled up in the stove.

  After making a pyramid of the chunks of wood over the paper, she set them alight, then sat back to watch her handiwork. Within seconds the logs had caught, crackling and popping sparks up the chimney.

  The warmth felt like heaven as the glow slowly filled the small room. She tried not to think about what was happening outside. Instead, she thought about Heather and how worried her daughter would be that she hadn’t called. Polly, too, must be out of her mind with worry. She would have to call as soon as she got back home.

  She thought longingly of her cozy house, yearning for a hot shower, clean dry clothes and a cup of hot coffee. Now that she was warm and beginning to dry out, she could deal with everything that had happened in the last few hours.

  She shuddered when she thought about how close she’d come to dying in this miserable hole. If it hadn’t been for Blake, she could have been dead by now, probably lying in the lake beneath the ice.

  Restlessly she got to her feet and went to the window.

  Pulling back the curtains, she peered outside. She could see nothing but her reflection in the dusty panes. Wandering back to the stove, she squatted down in front of it.

  She longed to open the door, but was afraid to unbolt it. With her own eyes she had seen Mike sink into the depths of the lake. There was always the chance, however, that he could have escaped, and eluded the deputies and Blake in the dark. She wouldn’t feel safe until she knew he was in custody again.

  But she still wouldn’t feel totally secure, even then. There would always be the chance he could escape again, or eventually be paroled. Or, as he’d threatened to do, he could send someone else after her.

  Knowing Mike as she did, he wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t forget, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d paid her back for her betrayal. She would always have that fear, not only for herself, but for her daughter. For she was quite sure that if Mike couldn’t get to her, he would find a way to get to Heather.

  Gai
l sighed, as her eyelids drooped again. She was so tired. The warmth was making her lethargic, drowning her mind of coherent thought. She moved away from the stove and sat down on the couch, trying not to remember Mike sitting there just an hour or two ago.

  Soon, she thought hopefully, it would all be over. Mike would be back in jail, and she could go home. Only where was home? Now that Mike knew where she lived, Mellow Springs would no longer be safe for her and Heather.

  Slowly she got up from the couch and went over to the stove. She picked up a log and threw it on the fire, then closed the little metal door. She could hear the flames roaring all the way up the metal chimney.

  She would have to find somewhere else to live, start a new life all over again for herself and her daughter. The thought depressed her.

  She sat down on the couch again, then froze as footsteps sounded on the steps outside. The door shook as someone pounded furiously on it. “Gail? Let me in. It’s freezing out here.”

  With a cry of joy she leaped to her feet and sped across the room. The bolt slid back in her impatient fingers and then she had the door open. A blast of cold air made her gasp as she reached out to Blake, who stood shivering on the doorstep, his lips blue with cold.

  “Quick, come inside,” she urged, as she stood back to let him pass. She looked out into the darkness, expecting to see the deputies, but the lake was deserted once more.

  “The deputies are going back to town,” Blake said, as he crossed the room to the stove. “They’re taking my car with them. I thought we’d go back together in yours.”

  Even as he spoke, she heard the roar of a car engine bursting to life from somewhere behind the cabin. Another one joined it a moment later.

  “Good. I didn’t fancy the idea of driving back alone in this snow.” Gail slammed the door shut and shot the bolt. Turning to look at him, she asked quietly, “Did you find him?”

  Blake gave a brief shake of his head. “No, not a trace of him.”

  She tried to hide her dismay. She must not have succeeded, as he gave her a bleak look.