Flee the Night

by Susan May Warren

  Conner laughed. “You need to do something that really … makes her do a double take … maybe … a poem?”

  “Oh, who are you, Cyrano de Bergerac?”

  Maybe it was the morning light threading through the curtain, but he thought he saw Conner blush. “I dunno. Maybe you’re right. I’m a lot of talk. But I’m thinking that if you’re trying to show her what it means to be loved by God, you can only model it yourself.”

  Micah blinked and sat up. “If she’s unavailable to hand over Ex-6, then she can’t be charged.”

  Conner frowned at him.

  “Can you make me a copy of her program if I get it to you?”

  Conner nodded, his expression wary.

  Micah pushed to his feet. “Fire up your gizmos, Sparks. And get me a topo map of Coward’s Hollow. She’s not going to make the exchange … I am.”

  Lacey stood in the shower, letting the water wash off the smell of the hospital, the vestiges of fatigue, even the sweet scent of Micah’s coat.

  Now that she was back in Poplar Bluff, she had to figure out a way to shake Micah. She shouldn’t have told him about Coward’s Hollow. But if she enlisted Dannette, perhaps—and what exactly was his relationship with the tall blonde, anyway? Lacey hadn’t missed the worry in the woman’s eyes, which made her wonder just how well she knew Micah.

  Dannette knew, for example, that he wasn’t in tip-top shape. The fact that she phoned someone named Sarah and asked her to go over and check on Micah meant he had told them about the cancer.

  That others knew Micah better than she did shouldn’t surprise her. But she couldn’t help the spurt of jealousy. Stupid, stupid woman. Micah would be wise to hook up with a gal like Dannette. Or anyone else whose future didn’t include being a fugitive from the U.S. government. She braced her arms against the wall and lifted her face into the shower, trying to wipe the image of Micah holding someone else—like Dannette—in his arms.

  She shouldn’t have surrendered to his embrace. Again, she was about to get her heart ripped out. Just when she thought she’d scarred over for good. But, no, he’d held her, then politely stepped out of her life. Just like he had fifteen years ago. Only he didn’t know that she’d seen how hard that had been for him.

  Lacey plugged the tub, and the water pooled around her. She closed her eyes, letting memory be her friend.

  Once she’d said yes to John’s proposal, life moved faster than she could breathe. Suddenly, she was walking down the aisle on a warm June day in her tiny hometown church toward the man who would be her future. A man who made her feel important and beautiful. Lilies and roses fragranced the sanctuary, and ahead of her stood her groom—handsome, built, adventurous John, his blue eyes full of mischief and delight. He looked stunning in his tuxedo, and she barely noticed the man standing next to him, staring at his polished shoes … Jim Micah.

  She spoke words, she was sure of it, because the ceremony ended with applause and the pronouncement of husband and wife.

  And then John swept her away in a limousine. “You’re so beautiful,” he said as he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

  She’d be happy—she knew it. John Montgomery, for all his sparkle and charisma, had chosen her, loved her. And she loved him back, with the part of her that longed for something more than the life her mother had. She wouldn’t be a farm-wife, stuck in a small town waiting for her man to return home from his overseas adventures.

  She’d be by his side wherever he went. In fact, she’d be the best thing that ever happened to Lt. John Montgomery. And the fact that being with him offered a life of adventure, a noble purpose … wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? She smiled, kissed him back, putting passion into her touch.

  “Wow,” John said, pulling back. “I hope there’s more of that.”

  “Of course,” she said and settled into his embrace.

  Two hours later, the cake had been cut, the toasts made, the dancing had begun. Occasionally, she’d spotted Micah, mostly chatting with his parents, his brother. He never glanced at her once. Still, she noticed when he left, and the tendrils of their former friendship tugged at her heart. “John, I need some fresh air,” she said when he pulled her close for yet another love song.

  He looked at her, frowning. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled. “Of course. I’m just … overwhelmed.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

  She said no and felt relief when John didn’t argue.

  The cool air, redolent of roses from the nearby garden, stirred the worry in her heart as she walked out into the night. The stars shone with a brilliance unequaled. She cut away from the club, followed the path down to the pond.

  The sound of quick breaths stopped her. She hid behind a willow tree and peered through the night toward the pond. Jim Micah sat on a bench, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

  Lacey watched, realizing he was … crying. Her mouth dried. Big, powerful Micah, dissolving before her eyes. Broken. Weeping in some private agony. Her throat thickened. Why would he be crying?

  She turned and crept away, back to the reception. But she buried the image in her heart, taking it out now and again to ponder it. To hope, perhaps, that he’d been crying for her. For the them that had never been.

  Now tears burned her eyes, and under the cover of running water, she let sobs rack her body. Weeping, just like Micah, for the them that would never be.

  Chapter 15

  MICAH OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T trust her as far as he could throw her, which must not be very far, because his friend—what was his name again? Conrad? Conway?—stood outside the motel door when Lacey emerged wearing a pair of Dannette’s track pants and a sweatshirt.

  She recognized a pit bull when she saw one, even one as cute as Conway, with his curly, burnt blond hair and mischievous smile. He had his arms crossed over his chest—now clothed in a black knit shirt and red down vest. “We’re waiting for you down at the café. Want some breakfast?”

  “We?” She slung the backpack, bulging with her yellow wig and dirty clothes, over her shoulder. They might come in handy at the next stop. The rabbit’s foot key chain she’d clipped to the waistband ties of the pants. If she could have found duct tape, she would have taped it to her body.

  “Yeah, me and the rest of Team Hope,” Pit Bull Conway answered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked casually ahead of her, but she had no doubt that should she bolt, he’d tackle her like a halfback. The guy had military written all over him despite his nonchalant grin. They appeared to be two friends, but his undercurrent of suspicion could power a small town.

  “Who’s Team Hope?” she asked, scanning the parking lot below as she trailed behind him. She counted seven cars in the lot, three with Missouri plates. None looked government issue. Across the street at the gas station, a man in an orange baseball cap fueled his pickup, his back to her, and another on a motorcycle kicked up his stand and motored off without glancing in her direction. Cars rolled by, splashing at the curb. Overhead, the sun beamed from a cirrus-filled sky, the clouds deflated of ammunition. Sparrows chirruped. So maybe she could relax and allow herself a couple of deep breaths.

  “Oh, just a bunch of friends,” her bodyguard replied. “We hang out together and sometimes do search-and-rescue ops. Micah pulled us in to search for Emily.”

  At her daughter’s name, Lacey’s throat thickened. Emily, please be safe. How she suddenly longed, as she once had, to kneel and find comfort in handing over her fears, her pain, into God’s hands. But there was no going back now. Despite Micah’s words about God breaking her free of captivity.

  “They cried out to the Lord in their trouble and he saved them from their distress.”

  The thought caught her, and she couldn’t deny the way her heart spasmed. But the idea of returning to God, knowing that she’d turned her back on Him—willfully—no, she didn’t have the right to ask for His help now.

  “What was your name agai
n?” she asked as they descended the stairs.

  “Conner Young.”

  When he smiled at her, she felt a tug toward friendship. Conner, not Conway. And he did seem like a Conner—sorta honorable. Polite. Possibly … kind? Maybe she’d been too rough on the guy. Just because he had been sent to keep an eye on her didn’t mean he wasn’t on her side.

  In fact, he looked almost … familiar. “Have we met before? What did Micah say yesterday about you remembering me?”

  Conner cut her a glance, and she thought she saw chagrin on his face. “Yeah. We met in Iraq. I was … with Micah.”

  Oh yeah. One of Micah’s roughed-up Green Berets she and John had helped free. She grimaced. “You were wounded.”

  He looked away. “I never thanked you for coming in after us. You were gone by the time they discharged me from the hospital in Germany.”

  She recalled the young man with the matted, bloodied hair, the leg wound, and pained eyes. Mostly, she remembered she’d been young, foolish, and idealistic.

  “What a beautiful day, huh?” Conner said, as if wanting to yank them out of painful memories. “Yesterday the sky was groaning, pouring itself out. Today nothing but blue skies and sunshine. As if God washed the landscape clean.”

  Lacey nodded, not sure how to respond. She felt like she was talking to Micah, Mr. Faith. The desire to figure out a way to save Ex-6 and Emily and to start again rushed over her. Micah had kissed her.…

  No, fatigue had eaten away at her common sense. Micah may have kissed her, but it had been nothing but a heart-rending panic reflex, a physical expression of relief after she’d nearly killed them both. And she wasn’t going to do anything that might get another man she loved killed.

  “Yes. It’s a great day.” She heard the despair in her voice.

  Conner said nothing as they crossed to the tiny café in the front of the motel. He opened the door and out spilled the sound of chatter, the stomach-grabbing smell of bacon frying, and the taste of small-town friendship. He pointed at a small group crammed into a corner.

  Lacey approached with a smile while she searched the room. Two elderly ladies in a booth along the front window; a single man, dressed in a business suit, reading today’s news and sipping coffee at a middle table. No NSA duos. Still, her stomach knotted.

  Conner pulled up a chair and motioned for her to sit while he slid in next to Dannette.

  “You look nice,” Dannette said. “Glad the duds fit.”

  “Thanks for the loaners.” Lacey felt slightly ill that she’d have to boost them. She’d figure out a way to send her a check.

  “Lacey, this is Andee MacLeod,” Conner said, gesturing to a young woman with light mocha skin and black hair. “And this is my cousin Sarah Nation. She’s from New Yark City.” He reached over and grabbed Sarah’s cup of coffee. “Where’s your shadow, New York?”

  Sarah made a face at him. She had blonde hair, and it was tucked back into a baseball cap, the long mane bundled in a ponytail, and eyes that looked like they could sting from ten paces. At least until she smiled at Lacey. Lacey felt their warmth to her bones. “Glad to meet you. I’m an EMT with the New York Fire Department. And Andee here is a part-time everything—trail guide, helicopter pilot, mountain goat. She lives in Alaska in the summertime, hangs in the Lower Forty-Eight during the winter.”

  “Glad to meet you,” Lacey said. “Where’s Micah?”

  “He’s snoozing,” Conner said and snatched a menu from Andee. “What’ll ya have, Lacey? It’s on me.”

  Lacey wasn’t sure how she should react to this generosity from Micah’s cronies. Did they know who she was? More importantly, did they know her history with Micah?

  “So, where’s your little shadow, Sarah?” Conner asked again, peeking over the menu.

  Sarah scowled. “Far away from me, I hope.”

  Conner grinned. “Or he’s lurking in the next booth, hoping to hear your sweet voice. Again.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Uh-oh, I think I see him!”

  Sarah turned, and Lacey didn’t miss the flush on her face.

  Conner laughed. “I knew it. You like him.” He leaned over to Lacey, his tone conspiratorial. “We bumped heads with this forest ranger when we were looking for your daughter, and he caught Sarah in a … vulnerable moment. Anyway, he was here twice yesterday, asking us how we were, like he cares I’m alive.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Nope, he was checking on old Fanny Crosby here.”

  Sarah hit him with her menu. She wasn’t smiling when she looked at Lacey. “I sing when I’m tense.”

  Sarah shot daggers at Conner while the waitress appeared and took their orders. Lacey glanced at Conner, and when he nodded, she ordered an omelette and a side of French toast.

  And orange juice. Then sausage, just for good measure. And a cinnamon roll to go.

  Conner had his eyebrows raised when she finished.

  She tucked her backpack between her feet and leaned into the table. “So, Micah is sleeping?” Well, he had been up all night. Still, she missed him, and in the back of her mind hoped she’d get a chance to say good-bye. Right before she locked him in the bathroom. He and the polite Pit Bull Conner.

  “So, Lacey, where are you from?” Dannette asked.

  Lacey surveyed her a moment before answering. The woman seemed to be the serious one and gave Lacey a reserved smile. “Ashleyville. I grew up with Micah.”

  Andee nodded. “You were in the train wreck, right? How are you?”

  In pain from head to toe and inside out. “Good. Thanks. I dislocated my shoulder.”

  Andee laced her hands on the table. “I’m sorry we didn’t find your daughter. Micah says you know where she is.”

  Lacey shot a look at Conner, but his face betrayed nothing. “Yes,” she said, feeling like a liar.

  “Good.” Relief washed through Andee’s brown eyes. Dannette smiled and grabbed her coffee cup. Sarah glared at Conner, who was trying to balance a saltshaker on a mound of salt.

  “Was your husband in the crash?” Andee asked.

  Lacey saw a shadow cross Conner’s face. Obviously Micah had told him something. Lacey smiled. “No, he wasn’t.” She glanced at Conner. “Actually, I’m a widow.”

  Sarah touched her arm. “I’m sorry. Andee didn’t mean to pry.”

  Lacey shook her head, realizing how few times she’d actually called herself that. As opposed to murderer. “He died a number of years ago actually. I’m used to being on my own.”

  “I’m sure it’s hard to raise a daughter by yourself,” Andee commented.

  Dannette watched Lacey with solemn eyes.

  Lacey made a wry face, nodded, but inside she felt like a hypocrite. No, she’d let Janie do the raising. She had shown up only for the high moments—and even then, seemed to miss them more often than hit them. Still, Emily loved her with abandon that made Lacey ache. Please, God, can’t You make this better? Her unbidden prayer caught her by surprise, and she forced through a wave of guilt.

  “So you and Micah grew up together. I’ll bet you knew him in his football days then, huh?” Sarah set the saltshaker on the pile, and it balanced perfectly on one edge. She gave Conner a smug look.

  “Yeah. He was a running back.”

  “Did you keep in touch over the years?” Dannette asked.

  Lacey felt herself prickle. “No … I mean, sort of. My late husband and Micah were best friends. He was in our wedding. But I lost touch over the years.”

  “He sure rushed to your aid the minute you called. We returned from the 7-Eleven in time to catch him roaring out of the parking lot of our motel like he was on fire.” Andee grinned, then leaned back to receive her plate of pancakes.

  After the waitress delivered their orders, Lacey dived into the omelette and French toast. It hit her stomach like a long-lost friend.

  “I’d say he seemed like a man who never forgot his first love,” Conner said, spooning his oatmeal.

  Lacey nearly choked on her coffee. “Sorry, what?”

&nb
sp; Conner grinned at her, then at the rest of the group. “Oh, sorry. I just meant that you must have meant a lot to him. Hey—” his blue eyes lit up—“if you went to the same high school, you must know his friend Penny. He used to tell us stories about her horse farm and this mine that he nearly got trapped in once. They must have been really good friends because he wrote her letter after letter, even when we were in country. He’d store them in his duffel bag and wait until we were EVACed. Then he’d send the entire wad of letters. Evidently, she was some sort of computer genius, working in …” His voice trailed off, and he wore a funny look. “Never mind.”

  Lacey’s throat tightened. “Yeah, I knew her,” she said lightly. “They were really good friends.”

  Conner stared at her, unblinking. “Good friends are hard to forget.”

  Lacey’s appetite was gone, but she forced herself to eat each bite, telling herself that this meal might be her last for a while.

  “Conner, do you think Micah will be reinstated?” Andee asked softly.

  “I don’t know. He’s got a senator pulling for him, but unless he passes the PT test—” Conner stared at his bowl of oatmeal—“I’m thinking no.”

  Lacey searched their faces. “Reinstated? You mean to active duty? He’s not current?”

  Andee glanced at her, then at her food, and the conversation died.

  “I know about … his sickness,” Lacey said, “but I didn’t know he wasn’t on duty.”

  “Medical leave,” Conner said. “He’s going up for review in a couple of weeks.”

  “And then he’ll head back to his unit … where?”

  Conner shrugged. “Eastern Europe or maybe one of the Stans. He’s a born leader, and the teams could use him. They called him Iceman, you know.”

  Oh, how she knew. That nickname haunted her.

  “It was because he just turned his emotions off when we were under attack. He’s mechanical and will take it on the chin without flinching. Knew what to do every time. A tactical genius.” Conner turned his coffee cup slowly, methodically. “The only time I saw him come apart was on a mission in Bosnia. This little girl walked into the middle of a gun battle between two street factions and was mowed down. Micah ran into the middle of the fight, scooped her up, and fled, full tilt, all the way to the field hospital. Like he didn’t think of anything but getting her there. I thought he’d lost his mind.