Fugitive Hearts

by Ingrid Weaver

  “I came to your cabin first,” he said, stalling for time to think. “When you weren’t here, I looked around a while. Thank God I saw what happened.”

  “It was lucky that you were at the lodge to dig me out of that avalanche,” she said.

  He remembered how pale and still Dana had looked when he’d reached her, and how hollow he had felt until he had verified that she was still breathing. He had only met her a week ago, had spent barely a day with her, yet her welfare had come to mean so much to him. He reached out to brush some remaining snow from her hair, then stroked her hair back from her cheek. “Yes,” he said, relieved to feel that her skin was warming up. “It was lucky.”

  She accepted his caress for a moment before she glanced down at the cat. Setting her chin, she tilted her head away from his touch. “I didn’t mean why were you at the lodge, I meant why did you come back to the resort at all?” she asked. “John,” she added.

  What could he possibly say? The truth was out of the question. No one else believed him, so why should Dana? Sure, she was a compassionate woman, but he couldn’t rely on her compassion stretching that far.

  Still, he had to say something. Desperately he searched his thoughts but all he could think of was how good it was to see her again, no matter what the circumstances…

  That was it! he decided quickly. The best lie was always one that had a core of truth.

  He pulled a footstool beside the couch and sat down. “I have a confession to make, Dana.”

  Her eyes widened. “You do?”

  “I could say that I was on my way to Hainesborough and decided to drop in, but that’s not the whole truth.” He reached out and took her hand. “The truth is, I came back because I couldn’t stay away from you.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I had to see you again.”

  The color that was returning to her cheeks suddenly deepened. “What?”

  “Since I left here, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to spring it on you like this,” he murmured. “I’m not expressing myself very well.”

  She looked down at their joined hands. “Uh…”

  “I thought I’d take this slow, but when I held you in my arms after I pulled you out of the snow, I realized time is too precious to waste. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow.”

  “But…”

  “I understand that you’re busy, and that you came up here to be alone. I’m not expecting you to neglect your work, yet I was hoping that we could get to know each other better.”

  She lifted her gaze back to his. “You want me to know you better?”

  God, no, he thought. That was the last thing he wanted. “I realize this is sudden, Dana. We only had a day together, but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter to the way I feel.”

  “I don’t…know what to say.”

  Remy could tell that she was having difficulty believing him. Of course she would. She may be generous and compassionate, but she wasn’t stupid. He needed to work harder at convincing her. Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

  The sensation of her skin beneath his lips set off a jolt of awareness. He didn’t need to fake the way his pulse accelerated and his body tensed. Damn it, this was supposed to be a lie.

  Her hand trembled.

  He wanted to kiss more than her hand. He wanted to stretch out beside her and hold her close and feel her entire body tremble. Instead he turned her hand over and brushed a kiss across her palm. “There’s something special between us, Dana. You sense it, too, don’t you?”

  “John…”

  “Something must have brought me to your doorstep in the storm. And it brought me back again when you needed me. I’d like to believe it was fate.”

  She parted her lips, but she didn’t speak.

  Remy watched her carefully. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Still, there was a spark of awareness in her eyes. It wasn’t as clear an invitation as it had been six days ago, when they had been saying goodbye, yet it was a step in the right direction. Was she buying the act?

  He’d been safe with her before. As long as he continued to keep her away from the news reports, there might be a way to salvage this situation yet. And what better way to ensure that than to play the attentive admirer? “I’m not expecting anything except a chance to find out where this leads. No pressure, Dana, and no strings,” he said. “All I want is a few more days—”

  “Days?” she repeated. “Are you saying you plan to stay here? With me?”

  “It worked out well before. We’ll have the same arrangement.”

  “Arrangement?”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He curled her fingers into her palm and held her hand to his chest. “But the rest of the time, Dana, I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

  Suds geysered upward as Dana thrust another plate into the sink. Remy had insisted on helping cook dinner, but it was probably due more to his desire to keep an eye on her than to share her company. And while she had gone through the motions, playing along with this farce, the whole time they’d been smiling across the table at each other, all she could think of was how to slip away and call the police. She would probably have permanent indigestion from the tension that had accompanied this meal.

  The smart thing to do would have been to reject his transparently phony advances right at the beginning, ask him to leave and bolt the door. But he had taken her by surprise. And hadn’t she already decided it would be best not to have a confrontation? What would he have done if she had called his bluff?

  He was lying, of course. All that nonsense about not being able to get her out of his mind and wanting to see her again and hoping they could discover where things led, it had to be lies.

  Well, one thing was undoubtedly true. Whatever else Remy was, he was an excellent liar. Although she caught occasional glimpses of the brooding stranger he had been when she had first met him, he was doing his best to behave like a love-struck suitor. He was trying to charm her the same way he was charming Morty. He could be waiting for a chance to catch her off guard and then—

  And then what? Kill her, the way he had killed his wife? If he was a murderer, if he intended to harm her, then why hadn’t he left her in the snow to suffocate?

  As it had at least a hundred times over the past few hours, her mind returned to the moment she had opened her eyes and seen his face. He had saved her life. She simply didn’t want to believe the worst about him.

  But that was nothing new, was it? She had been struggling to make excuses for him from the start.

  She was a complete idiot. A first-class fool. Because deep in her heart she wished she could believe his phony advances and ridiculous lies.

  If only they really had been fated to be together. It would have been so romantic, like a story of love at first sight, just the two of them in a cozy cabin in the woods. Wouldn’t it have been nice if Remy really had been as affected by her as she had been by him? Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if the thrill she had felt when his lips had met her skin had been the real thing?

  But nothing was real here, she told herself. Not his feelings, not even the name she was calling him. The sooner she phoned the police and ended this game, the better.

  The problem was, Remy was keeping his word. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  “Where does the colander go?” he asked.

  “Second cupboard to the left.”

  He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and bent down to open the cupboard.

  Dana tried very hard not to notice how his movement made his jeans pull taut to mold a set of firmly rounded buttocks. Averting her gaze, she plunged a pot lid into the soapy water that filled the sink.

  Did all ruthless wife killers volunteer to help with the dishes? And did they all have to possess such a tantalizing set of buns?

  At the touch on her
shoulder, she jumped back with a cry and spun to face him.

  “I’m sorry, Dana,” Remy said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She took a deep breath to settle her pulse. “It’s okay.”

  Remy dabbed the towel he held to a spot at the base of her throat. “You have some suds here.”

  “Oh.”

  He brushed the towel lower. “Here, too.”

  It was no use trying to settle her heartbeat, Dana thought. Not with his hand so close to her breasts. He would be able to see the way her pulse raced and her breath was growing short.

  But why should she try to hide her reaction? This would be how he would expect her to react if she believed he was John, right? She would respond to his touch because of that “something special” he sensed between them, right?

  Playing along had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now all she had to do was keep reminding herself that it was an act.

  “Is there anything else I could help you with, Dana?” he asked, leaning closer.

  “No, I—” She thought quickly. “As a matter of fact there is, John. We’ll be needing more wood for the fireplace.”

  “Would you like me to get it for you?”

  “Yes, please. It’s in the woodshed.”

  “I’d be happy to,” he said, hanging up his towel.

  She turned back to the sink, pretending to be absorbed in scrubbing the pot lid while she strained to hear the sounds from the next room. She detected the rustle of fabric as Remy put on his coat, the stamp of his boots, the click of the latch on the front door…

  Yes! she thought, wiping her hands on her sweater. This was her chance. She pivoted and raced to the living room. The woodshed stored firewood for the entire resort, and it was closer to the lodge than to the caretaker’s cabin, nearly fifty yards from here. As long as Remy didn’t hurry, that would give her plenty of time to reach the phone and—

  “How much do you need?”

  She skidded to a halt in the doorway. Remy was still inside the cabin, his hand on the front door latch. “Lots,” she answered immediately. “You’ll probably have to make two or three trips.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks.” Bypassing the telephone, she walked over to the fireplace. The blaze was burning well, but she crossed her arms and drew in her shoulders as if she were cold. Go, she thought. What are you waiting for?

  “Dana?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Are you really all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No lingering aftereffects of your accident this morning?”

  “No, none at all. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Great.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Then could you show me where the woodshed is?”

  Did he know? she wondered as she put on her coat and led him outside. Did he realize that she knew who he was, and that she was waiting for the opportunity to turn him in? Was he merely being cautious, playing it safe?

  Or was he toying with her the way Morty toyed with the mice that were foolhardy enough to bumble within his reach?

  She shivered as she started down the path she had shoveled. Moments later she felt the warmth of Remy’s arm around her shoulders. He drew her close to his side and shortened his steps, as if he really did care about her comfort.

  Damn him, how could he do this to her? Why did he have to come back?

  Dana looked around. The moonlight reflected starkly from the snow, illuminating the area. She suddenly realized what she wasn’t seeing. “John, where’s your car?”

  “My car?”

  “I don’t see a car.”

  His breath puffed whitely in the moonlight. “I did more damage than I had realized when I hit the ditch in the storm. My car is still in a garage in Hainesborough. The mechanic has to wait for parts.”

  “Then how did you get home last week?”

  “The tow truck driver dropped me off at the bus station and I caught the first southbound to Toronto.”

  “Why didn’t you rent a car?”

  “My wallet must have fallen out of my pocket while I was wandering around in the snow that first night, so I didn’t have my driver’s license or any ID.”

  “How…inconvenient. But how did you get here?”

  “I got a ride with a friend who was on his way north. He dropped me at the end of the lane.”

  If she hadn’t been listening for it, she might have missed the slight pause before each of his answers. She had to hand it to him. He had an excuse—a lie—for everything. And she thought she was the one with the imagination?

  All right, if he wanted to toy with her, two could play that game. “I thought you were anxious to get home to your daughter,” she said, wondering how he’d lie his way out of this one. “I’m surprised you’d want to leave her alone so soon.”

  “My daughter—” The pause was longer this time. “Chantal will be fine.”

  “I guess you have a good baby-sitter?”

  “She’s staying with her grandparents.” He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, when I told her about you, she wanted to come here herself.”

  Dana frowned. He had lied about everything else. Had he lied about having a daughter, too?

  Somehow she didn’t think so. Obviously, she had huge gaps in her judgment when it came to men, but she was sure Remy couldn’t have fabricated Chantal. He might have lied about her name, and about her fondness for the Mortimer books, but the love on his face when he’d spoken of his child had been too pure to be faked. So had the note of sadness in his voice when he’d spoken of her now. Dana had spent too much of her life longing for just that kind of bond with a child of her own. She was certain she was able to recognize it in someone else.

  If he did love his child as much as it seemed, then it must have been hell to be locked up where he couldn’t see her. No wonder he had liked to talk about her so much. He was probably eaten up with grief over missing her….

  She grimaced. She was doing it again, making excuses, trying to see some good in him. Before she started sympathizing with Remy Leverette, it might be good to remind herself that he couldn’t be with his daughter because he had killed his daughter’s mother.

  “Please feel free to call Chantal whenever you want,” she said. “I have a good long-distance plan.”

  “Thanks. That must mean the phone is working again.”

  “Yes.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “It was the weirdest thing. At first I thought the line was down, but then I discovered it was my phone that was the problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “I replaced it with one from the lodge and the line worked fine.”

  “Whatever the cause, I’m glad it’s fixed. I hated to think of you completely isolated out here.” He squeezed her shoulders. “That’s another reason I had to come back.”

  He was piling it on thicker, she thought. But there was some truth in what he said. He had probably wanted to return to the resort because of the complete isolation. After all, it had worked out well as a place for him to elude the authorities before.

  She swung open the door to the woodshed and flipped on the light. The glow from the solitary bulb that hung from the rafters was swallowed by the rows of stacked firewood, but it was enough to illuminate the chopping block in the middle of the floor…and the shiny new ax that was embedded in it.

  “Want me to split some kindling for you?” Remy asked, reaching for the ax.

  An image flashed into her mind from that Stephen King horror movie about the caretaker at the closed resort. She saw Jack Nicholson grinning maniacally and wielding an ax…. “No!”

  Remy cocked his head and looked at her, one eyebrow lifting. “Relax, I’ve done this before. I wouldn’t chop off my foot.”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “It’s just not necessary. Derek provided plenty of kindling before he left.”

  He shrugged and went over to the nearest stack of firewood. One by one he piled the short logs on hi
s forearm. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  She swallowed hard, her gaze on the ax. What was she doing? This wasn’t a game. Instead of matching wits with Remy, she should be worried out of her mind.

  So why wasn’t she?

  Chapter 6

  Remy angled the screwdriver against the valve and pressed down on the pin in the center. Air hissed out in a steady stream as the last tire slowly deflated.

  Satisfied, Remy rose from his crouch beside Dana’s car and replaced the tool on the workbench, shining the flashlight around the garage. Like the woodshed, this building was closer to the lodge than to any of the scattered cabins, including the caretaker’s. It sheltered several all-terrain vehicles, about a dozen mountain bikes and a pickup truck that he assumed belonged to Derek. The ATVs and the bikes would be useless until the spring thaw, and he’d removed the battery from the pickup. Now that the remaining car was unusable, Dana wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry without his knowledge.

  All right. That was one more loose end tied up…and at least a hundred more to go. He’d been lucky so far that Dana hadn’t asked him about his lack of luggage, considering his claim that he had wanted to stay with her. He had covered that problem as soon as he’d gotten up this morning by returning to the lodge and filling a gym bag with Dana’s cousin’s clothes. He was gambling that she didn’t see Derek often enough to recognize his clothes, but if she did, he could say it was merely a coincidence. The deceptions kept adding up, didn’t they?

  As had happened all too frequently, a whisper of guilt stirred, but he tamped it down. Whatever it took, he reminded himself. For Chantal, he would do whatever was necessary.

  Keeping the light low, he moved to the side door and looked outside. There was the hint of a glow on the southeast horizon—it would be dawn soon. He hoped Dana would still be asleep. Not even twenty-four hours had gone past and already he was sick of the lies.

  He knew this charade couldn’t go on indefinitely, but so far, things had worked out better than he could have imagined. He could go into town in a few more days anyway, just as he’d planned, but he could claim he wanted to pick up his car. Dana might even give him a ride, once he installed the battery in the truck. As long as she didn’t learn the truth, she could be useful. She seemed to be as interested in him as he pretended to be in her.