Runaway Heart

by Saranne Dawson

  He grinned. “You have to admit that it has its appeal.”

  “To men, maybe.”

  “Right. That’s what I meant. Okay, well, it will help to have you along. You can carry some stuff.”

  They got out of the Jeep and she followed him into the woods. “Pay attention to where we’re going in case you have to find your way back alone,” he told her.

  “I hate to say this, but the only way I could ever find my way back is if I keep the Jeep in sight. Besides, I thought you said this wouldn’t be dangerous.”

  “I don’t think it is. I just believe in being prepared for all contingencies.”

  They walked for a few minutes, then he stopped and turned, facing the way they’d come. She turned, too, frowning a question at him.

  “See that big tree with the dead limb?”

  She nodded, not understanding his point.

  “Remember it. It wasn’t obvious when we passed it, but when you’re coming in the other direction, you can see it easily. You do the same thing whenever you come to an intersecting path, because the intersection could look different coming from the opposite direction—especially if they don’t meet at right angles.”

  She studied the scene carefully before they continued. “Was this part of your military training?”

  He nodded. “Most of it is pretty simple, really—the kind of thing anyone learns if they spend any time in the woods. But it was all new to a city kid.”

  They stopped regularly and turned. She was amazed at how simple it was, or at least how simple it seemed. Each time she faced the way they’d come, she could find something to use as a landmark—a brilliantly colored maple, a jutting rock, a clump of birch. She got so caught up in the game she very nearly forgot its purpose.

  Then she saw the house through the trees, only a few hundred yards ahead of them. “Is that your house?” she asked in surprise.

  His amused expression told her he was aware of her shock. “Yes. I bought it about ten years ago, before real estate prices up here started to climb. I used an inheritance from my grandmother—just in case you’re starting to think about corrupt cops.”

  She hadn’t been thinking that, but she was surprised. It scarcely looked like a weekend cabin, which is how he’d described it. For one thing, it was larger than she’d expected. And it boasted a starkly modern design, all glass and hard angles and weathered cedar.

  “At least it’s still mine,” he said, stopping to stare at it. “My legal fees took everything else. You wait here while I check to make sure that no one’s around front.”

  He moved quickly through the trees and around the side of the house, and while she waited, she studied his home. She was curious about the interior. Seeing the house made her reexamine her thoughts about him. Somehow, she’d been expecting a small, Spartan sort of place, the home of a man who gave little thought to decor. It unnerved her to realize she still didn’t know him well.

  He reappeared quickly and beckoned for her to join him. She left the woods and started toward him as he lowered himself to the ground and crawled beneath the deck after removing a crosshatched wood panel. The large deck stood about four feet off the ground, and the space beneath was enclosed.

  By the time she reached him, he was wriggling out with a key in his hand. “Trust Colby not to get it right,” he said with grim satisfaction. “He put a padlock on the front door, but he didn’t bother with the kitchen door. We can get in that way.”

  They went up the steps to the deck. Long, sliding glass doors led out to the deck in its center, but at one end, there was a regular door. Zach used the key to open it and they stepped inside.

  The kitchen was rather small but very well organized, designed to make maximum use of space. While Zach began to collect the things he wanted, she wandered through the house, keeping an eye out the front windows in case anyone showed up. The driveway was visible for only a short distance as it wound its way through the woods and down the hill to the road.

  The house was handsomely furnished, with a lot of leather and good art on the walls and a scattering of Oriental rugs covering parts of the polished wood floors. There were a few good antique pieces she assumed must be family heirlooms.

  C.Z. felt slightly disoriented. This was definitely not what she’d expected. It seemed that even now, he could still surprise her.

  The master suite was on a level of its own, and she climbed up to find Zach pulling clothing from the big walkin closet. A large duffel bag already stuffed to capacity sat on the floor, and he was carefully fitting more items into a hanging bag.

  One wall of the bedroom had sliding glass doors that opened to a small deck overhung by trees. She walked to the opposite wall, where a set of windows faced the front of the house.

  “This is a beautiful house, Zach,” she said sincerely.

  “Thanks. Take a look at the bathroom. That’s the only place I made any changes.”

  She walked to a door that stood slightly ajar and peered in. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “After our sessions at the prison, I used to go back to my crummy cell and imagine the two of us here. Unfortunately, I’m still only halfway there. You’re here, but we can’t stay long enough to use it, and the hot water’s shut off, anyway.”

  She smiled. So he’d had his own fantasies. She liked thinking about that. And she liked thinking about the two of them in the big spa tub set against windows that faced the deep woods.

  “We’ll get here,” he said confidently, drawing her against him. “With candlelight and champagne to celebrate.”

  She wanted to believe him, but not even his confidence could lighten the burden of her fears. For all their speculation, they were no closer to proving his innocence than they had been when he’d escaped from prison. Instead, it felt as though they were treading water, staying out of trouble but getting nowhere.

  Suddenly, Zach stiffened and let her go. She followed him to the windows, but he stopped her. “There’s a cruiser out there. I don’t think he’s likely to come in. He’ll probably just check to see if there’s any sign of a break-in.”

  His voice was calm, but her heart was thudding painfully in her chest. So much for their fantasies. It was back to ugly reality.

  “If he does come in, you get into the closet and stay in the back, behind the clothes. I’ll hide somewhere else, and if he really starts to search, I’ll let him find me. Then, after we’re gone, you go back to the Jeep.”

  She nodded, unable to speak as a hard lump filled her throat. He picked up the bags he’d packed and stowed them in the closet, then went to the window to take a cautious peek outside. There was a rattling sound at the front door. C.Z. jumped and could not quite prevent a small sound of alarm from escaping her lips.

  “He’s just checking the padlock,” Zach said in a whisper, then added, “now he’s walking around the outside.”

  He started toward the bedroom door. “You stay here. I’m going to keep an eye on him. If you hear anything, get into the closet and stay there.”

  Alone in the room, she paced, trying to calm her fears. Even if they evaded their would-be captors this time, how many more confrontations would there be? She wanted to believe Zach could keep them safe, but even he could make a mistake.

  Still, as she waited out the minutes, fearing at any time she would hear shouts and lose him, she vowed that if he was captured, she wouldn’t stop searching for a way to clear his name—and to avenge her father’s death.

  The deep silence in the house was oppressive, even though it meant they were still safe. Then Zach was in the room, arriving so silently that she started and cried out when she saw him. He hurried past her to the window, and even before he announced it, she heard a car door slam and an engine start up. They were safe.

  “Was it Colby?” she asked.

  “No. I didn’t recognize him. He must be a new hire. I have only a few more things to get from the basement, and then we’ll get out of here.”

  C.Z. D
IDN’T QUITE let go of her fears until they were in the Jeep and bumping into the woods. Not until they’d gone some distance did she realize they weren’t headed to Scott’s place.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, though she thought she knew.

  “Over to Summers’s camp.”

  “Zach, even if we find an old truck there, it won’t prove anything,” she protested.

  “Maybe not, but I still want to check on it.”

  “You like danger, don’t you? That’s why you like being a cop. You’re addicted to it.”

  He slanted a quick glance at her. “Stop playing shrink, C.Z. There’s less danger going to Summers’s place than there was in visiting my house. Besides, we’ll do the same thing there, leave the Jeep in the woods and walk in. You can stay with the Jeep this time.”

  C.Z. bit off a sharp reply—she wasn’t exactly playing at being a shrink since she was one. As they continued along an old trail, they remained silent. Several times, she could feel his gaze on her, but she still said nothing.

  She could feel a gulf opening between them. He had seemingly brushed off the danger they’d faced and didn’t seem to understand how she could be worried. And this from a man who only hours ago had been a tender and considerate lover.

  Finally, he stopped the Jeep and turned off the engine. “His camp is just on the other side of that hill,” he said, pointing to the left. “I won’t be gone long.”

  She hesitated as he started to walk into the woods, then opened her door and got out. He stopped and turned toward her.

  “There’s no reason for you to come with me.”

  “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I am.”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets in characteristic fashion. “Look, I’m sorry. Forget what I said. I know you can’t stop being what you are any more than I can stop being what I am.”

  He ran a hand through his thick black hair. “If we were living normal lives right now and going out to dinner and getting to know each other the way most people do, it’d be different.”

  She wasn’t exactly certain what he meant by that statement, but she thought he was right. She also wondered if things would have gone beyond a few dates. There would still be that powerful physical attraction, of course, but…

  “You’re right,” she said, deciding to leave it at that. There was certainly no point in speculating about what a normal life would be like for them.

  When they reached the top of the hill, she saw the cabin in a hollow. It looked much like what she’d expected Zach’s home to be like, old and slightly ramshackle, covered with dark green shingles and featuring a large stone chimney that looked much sturdier than the rest of the place.

  Behind the cabin were two outbuildings, one of which was little more than a lean-to filled with wood. The other one was about the size of a single-car garage, though she couldn’t tell from this side if that’s what it was.

  They also had a clear view of the land in front of the cabin, and there was no vehicle in sight. Shutters covered the windows, which indicated that no one was likely to be there. Still, they made their way cautiously down the hill, staying within the cover of the thick underbrush until they reached the larger of the outbuildings.

  “Wait here a minute, just till I see if there’s anything in here,” Zach ordered.

  He started around the side of the building farthest from the cabin while she waited behind it. After only a few minutes, he called out to her and she hurried to join him as he stood before an old wooden garage door without windows.

  “Damn! It’s probably locked,” he said in frustration as he went to try to open it.

  To their surprise, however, the door rolled up noisily. C.Z. turned to cast a quick look at the cabin, fearing someone might be in there. When she turned back, Zach was staring at the battered old truck that sat on the dirt floor of the garage. He walked alongside it to the front and peered at the windshield.

  “Interesting,” he said as he came back to her.

  “What do you mean?” She couldn’t see anything interesting about it. It was red. The truck they were seeking was black.

  He gestured to the license plate. “It expired three years ago, and so did the inspection.”

  “So?” She couldn’t see the importance of that, since it obviously wasn’t intended for road use.

  “The school bus crash happened a little over three years ago.”

  “Oh.” Now she understood. If they were right about Harvey Summers having been the driver of the truck, then he would have gotten rid of it and acquired a replacement about that time.

  “But what could he have done with the other truck?” she asked. “He wouldn’t have taken it to a junkyard.”

  “He probably did what a lot of locals do—abandoned it in the woods. I’ve come across a couple of old wrecks out there.”

  “Do you think we could find it?” she asked eagerly, staring at the woods around them. “How much land does he own?”

  “A lot, I think, but he wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave it on his own land.” He pulled the garage door down.

  “We’ll never find it,” she said unhappily, thinking about the huge expanse of forest.

  “He must have bought it from someone around here. Our best hope is to find out who the seller was.”

  “But how?”

  “That I don’t know—yet. Come here. I want to show you something.”

  She followed him to the front of the cabin, then discovered that the something he wanted to show her was what had happened the night he shot Harvey Summers. She stood quietly while he went through it, showing her where he’d been and where Harvey had been. His voice betrayed no emotion, which gave a surreal quality to the performance. She didn’t understand why he was doing it. Could he think she still had doubts about his truthfulness?

  “What I’ve never understood,” he said, “is why he or Colby didn’t just kill me and claim self-defense. If they got away with the lies they told, they could have gotten away with that, too.

  “It seems to me that maybe Colby did just happen to come along at that moment, like he said. I didn’t see his truck when I came up the road, so he couldn’t have been here already.”

  “But if Colby wasn’t in on it, then why would he have gone along with it—unless Harvey has some hold over him?” she offered.

  “Exactly. That’s why it seems likely he was the other man the bus driver saw. I don’t like Colby much. He’s dumb as a stump and he’s as lazy as they come, but it’s still hard for me to see him being involved in something like that—so he has to be protecting his butt.”

  “But he might also have realized that by framing you, he’d get to become chief,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think he really wanted to be chief. He’s just smart enough to know he’s not smart enough, and he said more than once he hates all the paperwork that goes with the job.”

  C.Z. sighed. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Nothing about this is straightforward. Everyone thinks Harvey Summers is a saint, and on the surface, at least, Colby has no reason to lie. I can remember Dad complaining about how stupid Colby was, but he also said that he’s goodhearted.”

  Zach nodded. “He is. He does a lot of community work, coaching Little League and the like.”

  “Two pillars of the community,” she murmured. “How can we ever bring them down?”

  Chapter Six

  “I understand you met Zach Hollis in prison. I defended him, you know.”

  C.Z. was grateful Sam Gittings couldn’t see her face. They were sitting side by side on the playground swings, the very same playground where he’d tormented her with bugs and even a garter snake once, though at least he’d been reprimanded for that.

  “Yes, I met him, but it was before he went to prison. Dad introduced us a couple of years ago when we ran into Zach at the diner.”

  She peered across the grassy field to the fair, where people were milling about, hoping that Stacey would summon her to th
e booth where she’d been working. She didn’t want to think about Zach right now, let alone talk about him.

  Zach had gone to the city this morning to get the rest of what he needed for his disguise. She had driven him to Poughkeepsie to get the train and she could still see him in her mind’s eye, walking away from her without a backward glance. She was terrified for him—and once again angry, as well, because he seemed so unconcerned. Was he just very good at hiding his fear, or was he truly unafraid? Not only was he out in public with a disguise that might not work, but he was also going into a neighborhood filled with criminal types.

  “So what do you think?” Sam asked.

  She turned briefly to face her childhood friend. “I think he’s innocent, if that’s what you mean.”

  Sam nodded. She noticed he still had that same serious demeanor he’d acquired once his bug and snake days had passed. Solid, serious and reliable—that was Sam Gittings. She knew he’d had a crush on her and wondered why she’d never felt anything more than a sort of absentminded affection for him. Too much history, she supposed. Or too little danger, she added silently as she thought about Zach.

  “But what I don’t understand,” she went on, “is why Harvey Summers would frame him.”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. I’ve known Harvey all my life. Everyone has. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  She stifled a pang of disappointment. It was foolish to hope that Sam would have anything to offer, and yet she had. But if Sam, who’d lived here all his life, couldn’t offer a reason…

  “Stacey says that Colby believes he’s somewhere in the area.”

  “Yeah. He’s questioned me. I think he half believes that I’m hiding Zach somewhere or helping him somehow.”

  “Would you do that?” she asked. “Help him, I mean?”

  “That’s a tough one. I don’t know. It’d be risky, but I know he wasn’t trying to kill Harvey.” He paused and stared toward the crowd. “Speaking of Harvey…”

  C.Z. turned and saw the county commissioner heading toward them. She glanced around, hoping he might be planning to join someone else, but they were the only two people on the playground.