Twilight

by Kristen Heitzmann

  He looked at the clock. 4:45. “Awake?”

  “I need you to meet me on Route D.”

  Cal raised to one elbow. “Last I looked, I didn’t work for you.”

  “Drag your tail out of bed and get down here. I’ve found your black Firebird.”

  Cal listened to the dial tone a moment before hanging up. Found the Firebird? Brian Prelane’s Firebird? He pressed his palm to his eyes. Was it any wonder he’d slept like a baby after Suanne’s pork chops and an evening of real companionship? He didn’t want to pick up his life where he’d left it. But what choice did he have with Danson waiting?

  Annie’s nails clicked on the wood floor as she jumped down from the bed, her eyebrows arched up in worry. He opened the door, hoping her pattering down the stairs wouldn’t disturb Mildred. He never let her out this early, but Danson had made it necessary. After minimal preparation, he headed out into the darkness, coffee in hand.

  Annie tried to join him in the jeep, but he ordered her to stay and she curled up at the base of the stairs. Cal’s head cleared as he drove. What did Danson mean he’d found the Firebird? Had he stopped Brian for some infringement? Would he question him about Flip Casey? Cal shook his head. Then why order him to meet on the highway?

  Cal knew as soon as he spotted the scene. The ambulance was there, lights flashing, Danson’s cruiser and another behind it. An accident, but this time it looked like the Firebird got the worst of it.

  Cal stepped from the jeep and walked to the roadside where the Firebird had lodged in the ditch. Lit by spotlights, the scene looked stark and eerie. The windshield was shattered and blood-smeared. The driver had been extr icated and lay on the frozen g round, shrouded.

  What on earth? Cal glanced at Danson. The steely gaze met his. With a swift dip, Cal reached for the blanket and pulled it back. He wished he hadn’t. This was no blunt trauma death. The features were erased by the damage of an exiting bullet fired at close range. The black hair was crusted with blood. He dropped the blanket back.

  “You know him?” Danson had come alongside.

  Did Danson think he could I.D. that mess? But he had a guess, didn’t he? His thoughts slammed into the front of his brain, just as his head had slammed into the jeep’s frame when this same Firebird ran him off the road. “No.” Cal’s throat felt like detox.

  “Car’s rented to Brian Prelane. Name mean anything to you?”

  Cal sucked the air. Was it Laurie’s husband lying there? It didn’t make sense. Then he saw again the gun in Laurie’s pocket.

  “You still own that rifle?”

  Cal jerked his head. “I haven’t used it in months.” Not since … since shooting out the tire of Danson’s cruiser on an angry, drunken binge.

  “I’d like to see it for myself.”

  “Why?” And then it hit him. “You don’t think …” He looked back at the telltale hole in the Firebird’s window. “Oh, come on, Danson.”

  Danson took his Matt Dillon stance.

  Cal’s mouth went dry. “So come inspect it. See for yourself.” It wasn’t his rifle that had shot Brian Prelane. Was it Laurie’s gun?

  Danson’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me? What do you know about this?” He waved his arm over the corpse.

  “If you suspect me, why don’t you take me in right now? Book me, Dano.” What was he doing? Why was he protecting her? Again the thoughts slammed forward. Had Laurie killed her husband? He’d smelled her fear.

  Danson came up chest to chest. “You have a smart mouth, Morrison. And you better believe I’ll lock your tail up if I find one thing to indicate I should.”

  Cal kept silent. It would take all of an hour’s work for Danson to learn more than enough to do just that. Cal had already admitted being run down by the car. Add to that his history, past and present, with the man’s wife …

  He ought to come clean, tell Danson what he knew. But something, maybe Laurie’s fear or the pain he’d glimpsed in her eyes, held him mute. If Brian Prelane had battered Laurie, if she’d been driven to it … Cal felt a protective rage. He had to get to her, had to learn the truth before telling Danson anything.

  Cal shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know where to find me.” He turned away and reached the jeep without Danson stopping him. As he climbed in and started the engine he saw the sergeant’s unwavering gaze.

  The first order of business was to switch cars with Ray. If Danson suspected a connection, he would have him watched, in which case his jeep was well enough known to mark him around town. Ray’s Chevy bomb would be a far cry from that.

  He pulled the jeep into the gravel circle under the eaves and climbed out. Before he could head for the garage, Cissy opened the house door. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back.”

  He stopped. “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” Mildred pushed past to the porch. “I told you there was trouble. But did you listen?”

  Cal bristled. “I’m listening now.” He needed answers, not scolding.

  She held out an envelope.

  He mounted the steps and took it. Cal. In Laurie’s handwriting. He tore it open. Please believe I wouldn’t ask this if there were any other way. I don’t know where else to turn. The children shouldn’t pay for my mistakes. Please, please keep them safe. Take them somewhere they won’t be found.

  Cal swallowed his fear and confusion. Looking up at Mildred, he searched for something, some clue to— And then Maddie slipped between the two sisters, pressing herself into Cissy’s legs.

  Cissy stroked the child’s hair. “Laurie brought them not more than half an hour ago. You weren’t home.”

  Laurie brought them? After shooting Brian off the road? Cold rose up inside. He didn’t want to think … this was no time for conjecture. He stared a moment, then handed Mildred the note, turned, and called over his shoulder, “Keep them here. And don’t open the door to anyone.”

  He ran for the jeep, all thoughts of Ray’s Chevy washed away in the panic that now filled him. The sight of Brian’s ruined face stayed in his mind. Someone, some thing had done that to him. Had Laurie killed Brian and run? Or was she herself the prey? He gunned the gas pedal and spun from the yard.

  Laurie looked again into the rearview mirror. There was only the beginning of morning light to show her the car following. The best she could hope was to put enough miles behind her to give Cal time to escape with the children. She closed her eyes against the pain. Putting a hand to her mouth, she breathed in and out hard, fighting the overwhelming rush of terror.

  She had to believe that he would keep them safe. He may despise her, but he would protect Luke and Maddie. Who better? Hadn’t she seen it the day he lunged for Maddie beside the fire? It was pure instinct in him. He’d keep them safe from harm. And that’s what mattered. Not Brian. Not her. Only Luke and Maddie.

  Before she reached the edge of town, the Mustang with rental plates was behind her. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was them. It wasn’t the Firebird Cal had questioned her about. Maybe Brian was in that car somewhere up ahead, waiting to cut her off. She had hoped to get farther. Maybe she could still talk her way out. Buy time. Time for Cal and her babies to escape.

  After Brian and his partners had left last night, she had waited in the dark, almost paralyzed, fearing the moment she stepped outside. But at last she’d had to risk it. And she’d slipped out, slipped out with her children in the small hours and made it to Cal’s. Her courage had almost failed when he didn’t answer his door. But then Mildred was there, taking charge, assuring her. Maybe it was better not to face him. The note saved her from that.

  She had told Mildred only that it was an emergency. The note had explained nothing. But Cal would take them away, take them somewhere safe. It didn’t matter where. She might never see them again, but they’d be safe. A stabbing pain, so real it stopped her breath, shot through her. What choice did she have?

  If only Brian had … But then, she couldn’t blame him. Even now she recal
led his fear. He hadn’t known, hadn’t understood. In a way he was just a child himself, always looking for one more thrill, one more way to prove himself.

  The Mustang drew up close behind her. She saw two men inside. Was it Alex Dieter at the wheel, or the Latino with no expression? Neither looked like Brian in the dim light. Where was he? She searched the road ahead, expecting him to dart out and run her off as he’d done to Cal. Oh, God, what do I do?

  God? It was the first time she’d called on Him in too long. Once, for a while, she’d tried. She had even believed, given her life in the simple prayer Grams had led her through. But she’d turned her back when Grams died. Had God forgotten her then, too?

  Cal pulled the jeep to a screeching halt and ran for the door of Laurie’s house. He didn’t have to break the lock. It was done for him, the wood of the old door splintered away from the new lock. He pushed open the door and went inside. Daylight streamed over the upturned sleeper couch, slashed and ripped apart.

  It was like a scene from a movie, everything thrown about and smashed. The kitchen was the same, the cupboards stripped, their contents scattered. A search? Would Laurie have trashed her own place? He turned and rushed upstairs. The beds were slashed, the clothing tossed about, closets demolished. He knew already the house was empty, but the cry came from him regardless. “Laurie!”

  Only a hint of echo. He dropped his face to his forearm against the doorjamb. Where was she? And why hadn’t she let him help her? He went down to the kitchen where the back door banged in the wind. Probably the exit route, and by the amount of heat still present in the room, it hadn’t been that long.

  He heard the sound of sirens and from the window saw Danson and company heading around the corner. With scarcely a moment’s thought, Cal ran out the door and around the side of the house. He laid rubber, just as Danson screeched to a halt and hollered for him to stop.

  Cal drove like a madman, watching for them to follow. Either he’d lost them or they didn’t care to give chase. After all, they knew where to find him, and their first concern would be searching Laurie’s house. Of course, his presence and flight would gain importance once Danson ascertained the trashed house was empty.

  Careening up to the Suttons’ colonial brick house put Cal in time warp. How many times had he driven defiantly in his old Pontiac to pick Laurie up for the evening? Not as many as he’d have liked, but more than the Suttons could stomach. He took the masonry-tiled walk at a lope and banged on the door.

  Marjorie Sutton opened it. She was a thinner, paler version of who she had been, but he recognized the expression. No matter how she aged, she would always wear the same tight, weary expression.

  “Is Laurie here?”

  She shook her head, surprise and concern betrayed in the eyes. Cal jammed his hands into his pockets. He hadn’t expected her to be, but he’d hoped.

  Laurie’s mother stepped back. “Come in.” A command, not an invitation. His presence on her doorstep, where the neighbors might see, must be a greater evil than admitting him into the sanctuary. But he didn’t have time with Danson on his heels; he needed answers fast.

  “Please.” Her voice was tight as she waved him inside.

  Cal stepped over the threshold just far enough for her to close the door behind him. “Mrs. Sutton, do you know what’s going on?”

  She stood stiff backed, hands folded at her waist. “I’m always the last to know. I hadn’t heard she left Brian until she showed up here with the children.” She headed into the living room, leaving Cal no choice but to follow. “As far as I knew they were perfectly happy.”

  Cal glanced at the picture she indicated with one hand outstretched. He would have preferred not to see a radiant Laurie draped in lace and pearls. For a moment, he had eyes only for her, the smile emanating from her whole face, the excitement of the moment shining in her eyes as brightly as the sun on the ocean behind her. She had attained everything she wanted.

  Then he looked at the man beside her, dark hair, white teeth gleaming. Wide shoulders, broad chest, an athletic stance. It was hard to see past their idyllic happiness to the brutality of what he’d viewed that mor ning. Had Laur ie… ? Anything was possible. She was duplicitous and confused. But that didn’t explain the condition of her house.

  He rubbed his palm over his jaw and looked back at Marjorie Sutton. “Laurie’s in trouble.”

  “Then it’s your fault.”

  Cal swallowed that. He should have known she’d take that tack. It intensified his own suspicions that one misstep would land him in the slammer. And then what good would he be to Laurie? Once Danson made the connection …

  “She’s gone, and her place is all torn up.”

  Marjor ie Sutton stood unbelieving. This was getting him nowhere. He pulled out a pad, wrote down Mildred’s phone number, then tore off the page and held it out to her. “If you see or hear anything from her, call this number.” He could see by the tightening of the lips she would refuse. “Mrs. Sutton, Brian Prelane is dead. And Laurie’s missing.”

  He watched her pale and knew from his training he should have warned her first. He caught her elbow and eased her into a chair. There was no time for more. “Call if you hear anything.”

  She nodded numbly. Cal was concerned, but he guessed it would be only minutes before Sergeant Danson would be there to fill her in. Then she could make what she liked of it all. Somehow it would still come out his fault.

  15

  HOW MANY OF OUR DAYDREAMS

  WOULD DARKEN INTO NIGHTMARES,

  WERE THERE A DANGER OF THEIR COMING TRUE!

  Logan Pearsall Smith

  CAL DROVE HOME ON AUTOPILOT. Where was Laurie, and did she really expect him to take her children and hide out when she was in danger? Or was she making her escape? Dumping the kids and skipping town after shooting her husband?

  Cal flashed on the shattered face. He felt no satisfaction. It was a wasted life. He puzzled his sympathy for the man who’d taken a bat to him and might have done worse damage if not for Annie on his ankle. It was what he’d seen in their wedding picture, a reflection in Brian’s face of what Cal felt for Laurie—and in that he could pity Brian Prelane. Rob was right. Laurie took everything you had.

  The children were in the kitchen with Cissy, but he searched out Mildred in the study. She fixed him with a sharp eye. “The police came looking for you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That you weren’t here.”

  He let out his tight breath, thankful it had been the truth. Not only did he doubt Mildred would lie, but Danson would know it if she tried. “What about the kids?”

  “He didn’t ask.”

  Again Cal breathed his relief. No doubt Danson assumed Laurie had the children with her, imagined Cal would skip town and meet her somewhere after offing her husband. “I’ll take them to the cabin.”

  Across the folding table lined with Christmas cards in neat rows, Mildred eyed him sharply.

  He dropped to the wicker chair across from her. “You saw the note. Laurie wants me to hide them, and I can’t argue since she’s missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “The house is all torn up. There’s no sign of her.” He didn’t reveal the anguish that sight had brought him.

  “I’ll call the police.”

  “Danson’s already been there.”

  Mildred’s thin fingers laced together. “That’s why he’s looking for you.”

  “No. Laurie’s husband is dead. Murdered.” Cal jammed his hands into the sides of his hair. “That’s why he’s looking for me.” He half expected her to take up the phone and turn him in.

  Instead, she blew through her lips and said, “That tomfool hasn’t the head for the job.”

  He looked at her from between his palms.

  “Anyone with half a brain would know you don’t have it in you.”

  Cal wasn’t sure that was a compliment.

  Mildred capped the pen. “My guess is a third party. She was a
fraid the first time I saw her. I think she brought this trouble with her.”

  Cal leaned forward. “I thought it was her husband.”

  Mildred snorted. “That was wishful thinking. It’s always easier to believe the other man a monster.”

  Cal let that go. After all, it was half true. “I have to get out of here. Did Laurie send things with the children?”

  “They have a suitcase by the door. But you won’t get out in your jeep. They’ll be watching the highways.”

  “They can’t watch them all. Route double E will be low on their list.”

  “You have to take D to get there.”

  Cal frowned. Route D was where they’d found both Flip Casey and Brian Prelane. Again he rubbed his jaw.

  Mildred stood. “You’ll take the Buick.” She walked to the oak wardrobe beside the bookcase. Reaching up with more agility than Cal would have credited her, she pulled down a hatbox and set it on the table. His suspicion intensified as she lifted the lid to reveal a broad-brimmed bonnet sort of hat with ribbon tie. Mildred’s garden hat.

  “They won’t know you in this.”

  “I won’t know me in that.”

  Again the gimlet stare. “It’s no worse than a wig and nose.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but she went on. “To the country boys staking out the road you’ll be a woman with children in a Buick, not a dangerous lunatic in a jeep.”

  He frowned at the word “lunatic,” the first time she’d directly referred to his troubles in pejorative terms.

  “Now.” She laid the hat out on the table. “You’ll need food and blankets. That place is a death trap. Your grandfather should have burned it before he died.”

  “I’ve caulked it some.”

  She snorted. “Not a word to Cissy. She’ll be sick with worry. It’ll send her to bed.”

  “She doesn’t know already?”

  Mildred shook her head. “I handled the police. She was in the kitchen with the children.”

  Cal bobbed his head once. “I think she’ll notice they’re gone.” Mildred glared. “She can know you’re at the cabin, but nothing more.”