Whether it was her words or his own belated sense of caution, he didn’t try to go after the child. He watched until the child and adult were out of sight, then tipped back his head and breathed deeply a few times. Reason apparently had reasserted itself. He wasn’t going to risk his freedom just to catch a glimpse of his daughter. The danger was over.
But Dana didn’t step back. Instead, she lifted her hands to his face and guided his head downward. She gave him a light kiss, a let’s-kiss-and-make-up kiss for the benefit of anyone who might have been watching her charade.
At least, that was the excuse she gave herself.
Remy stood motionless, his gaze inscrutable in the dim light. “What was that for?” he asked.
“All part of the act,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.
“Fine.” He braced his legs apart and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet. “Then so’s this.”
“Remy, you don’t need to—”
“You’re wrong, Dana,” he muttered against her lips. “At this moment, I can’t think of anything I need to do more.” He brought his mouth down on hers hard. If anyone had been watching, it would have been the logical next step in their charade. There would have been no doubt that they had made up. So this was good.
Oh, yes, it was good. The shadowy hush of the evening, the cold air on her cheeks mixed with Remy’s warm breath, the strength in his arms as he held her so effortlessly, all of it was better than she could have imagined. And his mouth, oh, his mouth. How could it feel so firm and yet so gentle? So commanding and yet so pleading? So…real?
To her there was nothing fake about this kiss. It was the real thing. He hadn’t tried to hide the attraction he felt toward her, and now there was no mistaking the passion she tasted. Even through the layers of their coats she could feel his muscles tense, yet despite the urgency in his body, his lips moved tenderly, as if he were coaxing her, wooing her to respond.
And God help her, she did. For one stolen minute she closed her eyes and took the pleasure he was giving. If they hadn’t been in a public park, if the circumstances had been different…
But they weren’t, were they? When it came to circumstances, they couldn’t get much worse. All too soon the minute was over. She brought her hands between them and pushed.
Chapter 10
There was something primitively satisfying about swinging an ax. The blade whistled as it sliced through the air; the honed edge glinted with purpose. The woodshed echoed with the solid thud of metal biting into maple and the clean crack of splitting wood.
It was simple. It was brutally straightforward. And it was about the only thing in the whole damn situation that was either.
Remy wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve and placed another chunk of wood on the chopping block. Aim, swing, split, stack. He went through the motions mechanically. The neat pile of kindling he’d already made was enough to supply every fireplace in Half Moon Bay for a year, but he wasn’t ready to stop.
He was accustomed to working with his hands, so he welcomed the physical exertion. His muscles were stretched and limber. His pulse was comfortably quickened. Each thud of the blade sent vibrations of power through his palms and up his arms. To a man who had been powerless for almost a year, it was unexpectedly satisfying.
A cold draft swirled past his ankles. He paused in midstroke as the door to the woodshed opened. Dana stepped inside, clicking off the flashlight she carried.
He waited, expecting her to say something about the phone, which he had unplugged as usual and brought with him before he’d left her alone in the cabin. Or maybe she wanted to know where he’d hidden the lodge keys.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he muttered, bringing the ax down. Pieces of maple clattered to the pile on the floor.
“Preparing for the next ice age?”
He retrieved the thickest piece of wood and balanced it in the middle of the block. He hefted the ax and brought it down, smoothly severing the wood into slivers.
“Remy, I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For having to stop you.” She closed the door and set her flashlight down, then moved closer. Her hair gleamed softly as she passed beneath the bare lightbulb overhead. “You know it was for the best, though.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I can understand how much you must have wanted to see her.”
He rested the ax on his shoulder and straightened up. She was talking about stopping him from going to Chantal. He’d thought she was talking about that kiss.
Either way she was right. There was no point tormenting himself with something he couldn’t have.
“It might not even have been her,” she continued.
“It was.”
“But—”
“I can’t explain it, Dana, but I knew she was my daughter.”
She unzipped her coat, stooping down to pick up an armful of kindling. “It must be so frustrating.”
Frustrating? The word didn’t come close to describing the situation, especially when it came to his feelings for Dana. His gaze dropped to the opening of her coat. The loose neckline of her sweater gaped outward as she leaned over. Although he told himself not to, he couldn’t stop from noticing the shadowed hint of cleavage within.
Yet another snug, warm, private place, he thought. He hadn’t been able to forget how soft her skin had felt when he’d brushed his hand below her waist. He’d caressed her like that once when he’d been Becker, and he hadn’t been able to forget that, either. His body was warm from exercise. His heart rate was already elevated. It wouldn’t take much to channel his energy toward her instead of the firewood. “Leave it, Dana. I’ll get it later.”
“I don’t mind.”
He swung the ax in a lazy arc and embedded the tip in the chopping block. Squatting down in front of her, he plucked the wood from her hand. “Would you please let me do this myself?” he asked, phrasing his order as a request. “I need the exercise.”
Her lips quirked. “Oh, I can understand that. You’d be amazed at what I find to do when one of my books is giving me trouble.”
“Is that why you came outside?”
“Partly. Mortimer isn’t cooperating with the scene I’m working on. He was escaping the pirate mice but he found a hole in the bottom of his boat.”
“Wasn’t that what you had planned?”
“No. That’s what makes my work so interesting. I never really know how the story’s going to end until I get there.”
He tossed the wood to the floor and stood up, extending his hand to Dana. “You said that was part of your reason. What’s the rest?”
“I was curious.” She grasped his hand and let him tug her to her feet. “You didn’t say anything after you finished going through that mail. Did you find something?”
“Not to support my alibi, no.” He looked at her hand. He knew he couldn’t justify touching her now any more than he could justify kissing her earlier, but he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to haul her against his chest and kiss her again. He wanted to lose himself in her softness, surround himself with her scent, use her sweetness to drive out the despair that always hovered on the edge of his emotions.
Use her. Damn.
“Remy?”
He guided her over to sit on a bench, then returned to pick up the ax. “I did find something odd.”
“What was it?”
“An insurance statement.”
“Life insurance?”
“No, my company had a group plan to cover prescriptions and extra medical expenses. The annual summary of the benefits lists how much each beneficiary has claimed.”
“I don’t understand. What’s odd about that?”
“Last year, there was more than seven hundred dollars in total claims by my wife.” He brought the ax down on a hapless piece of wood. “But as far as I know, she didn’t have any medical problem.”
&nb
sp; “That is odd. What could it be from?”
“Whatever it was, she kept it a secret from me.”
“Could it be drugs? Do you think it might be connected to her death?”
“I don’t know how, but considering my lack of progress, at this point anything odd is worth investigating.”
She frowned. “And how would you do that?”
“Her doctor would probably still have files. I need to take a look at them.” Another piece of wood met its doom. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. The doctor’s office would be closed. We’ll wait until dark to make sure no one’s there. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
She remained silent. He had expected an argument, or at least a challenging comment. Then again, after her initial resistance earlier, she had ended up helping him. No, it had gone beyond help. She had wholeheartedly participated, right down to covering for him when he had gone after Chantal.
Had he thought it would be better if Dana didn’t fight him? He’d been wrong. The more cooperative she became, the more like scum he felt. She was a good person, and he was drawing her deeper and deeper into this entire mess. He slammed the ax into the chopping block with more force than was necessary. Vibrations hummed through his hands to his forearms as the shed echoed with the crack of the blow.
Dana flinched. Yet rather than looking alarmed, she looked concerned.
He studied her. She should have been alarmed. She was alone with a convicted murderer who was armed with an ax. The last time they had been in the woodshed together, she hadn’t wanted him to touch it. She’d made some excuse about having enough kindling, but now he realized her behavior must have been due to nervousness.
When had it changed? He knew that he hadn’t been able to show her any proof of his innocence, but she no longer seemed nervous around him. Was it merely because she had resigned herself to cooperating?
Or was there another reason behind her change of attitude? Could he dare to hope that she trusted him?
Part of him was afraid to find out. He’d told himself over and over that it didn’t matter what she thought of him, but it did. How could it not? He was placing his life, as well as his hopes for his daughter’s future, in Dana’s hands.
Yet it wasn’t only fear of being betrayed that kept her constantly on his mind. Was it simply a physical attraction due to their proximity and his long period of abstinence? Or was it more?
There was a soft rustle of wool against wool as Dana stood up and started toward him. “Remy? Is something wrong?”
Something wrong? Where should he start? He shook his head and stooped down to pick up an armful of wood. He carried it to the stack of freshly split kindling and concentrated on lining up the ends.
She followed, waiting until he had finished stacking the wood before she spoke again. “Is it Chantal?” she asked, laying her fingers against his arm. “I am sorry that I wouldn’t let you see her, but I thought it was for the best.”
He looked into her eyes. He saw the same compassion she had shown when they had first met, when she hadn’t yet known who he really was. And just for a moment he wished he could have been John Becker or Josh Lawrence or any other man who would have had a chance with a woman like Dana. If only they could have met under other circumstances…
But that was impossible. The tangle of events that had brought them together couldn’t be unraveled. If he hadn’t found her cabin in the storm, if he hadn’t escaped prison, if he hadn’t been convicted of murder, if Sylvia hadn’t died in the first place, he would still be a married man.
The clinic didn’t have a pharmacy, which was probably why no alarm system had been installed. With no drugs to steal there was little reason for anyone to break into the doctors’ offices.
And this time there was no getting around it: they were guilty of break and enter. Compared to the other two forays they’d made into Hainesborough, this was dead serious.
“Do you ever get used to this?” Dana asked, sticking close to Remy’s side as he walked silently down the dark hall.
“To what? Crime?”
She nodded, the beam from her flashlight wobbling.
“No,” he responded. “Every time I did something illegal when I was a kid, I felt like throwing up.”
“I can believe that.”
He heard the anxiety in her voice, and again he regretted having to take her with him. He hadn’t wanted to. Because it was night, and there was little chance of running into anyone, he didn’t anticipate needing her to provide cover for him. He had almost told her to stay behind.
But then he reminded himself what was riding on his judgment. He couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
“Why did you keep doing it?”
He understood that she wanted to keep talking. It likely helped keep her mind off what they were doing. “I’ve wondered that myself.”
“And?”
“Maybe it was because that’s what everyone expected of me, considering my old man’s reputation. Maybe I enjoyed being the town bad boy. Maybe I was just a rotten kid.”
“Or maybe you didn’t have a chance to be anything else.”
He felt a glow of pleasure at her words. But at the same time, it made him feel worse for the way he was continuing to use her. This situation was really messing with his mind.
Remy paused when they reached the main reception area. Behind the counter was a pair of large open shelves that were stuffed with rows of beige file folders. There were also two large windows. He kept his flashlight aimed at the floor and quickly closed the blinds before he turned his attention to the files.
Less than a minute later, he pulled his wife’s file from the middle of one of the shelves. Wedging his light on the shelf at elbow level, he opened the folder and flipped through the contents.
Dana pressed close to his side. “Did you find anything?”
He frowned, trying to decipher the doctor’s handwriting. “Prescriptions. That would account for some of the insurance claims.”
“What are they for?”
“Painkillers. Antibiotics. I don’t know why…” He looked at the next paper in the file. “This is a receipt from the hospital. Day surgery.”
“What for?”
“I have no idea. I was out of town that week.” He picked up a typed form. It took him a moment to realize it was the record of a lab test.
“What’s that?”
He read the date, then focused on the box that had been checkmarked. The result had been positive.
He swore under his breath. He had thought he was beyond the reach of Sylvia’s ability to inflict pain, but still, to be confronted with the facts in such an in-your-face way hurt.
“Remy?”
He gritted his teeth and handed her the form.
Dana’s forehead furrowed as she read it. “This looks like a—” She went still. “Remy, this is a pregnancy test.”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, my God. Was Sylvia pregnant?”
“The test was dated last February. She wasn’t pregnant in April when she died.”
“Then…” Dana drew in her breath. “Oh, no. She must have had a miscarriage.”
“That would explain the prescriptions and the hospital charges.” He kept looking through the file.
“Didn’t you know?” Dana asked.
“No.”
“Your wife was pregnant. She lost her baby, and you didn’t even know?” Her voice rose. “You didn’t care?”
He glanced at the date on the top of the hospital bill and tried to recall his schedule. “I wasn’t here that week. There was an equipment auction in North Bay.”
She backed away from him. “You left her to go through it on her own.”
Her reaction was out of proportion to the situation. What was going on? “Dana, calm down.”
“Didn’t you think about the pain she must have been going through? She must have been trying to give you what you wanted. How could you turn your back on her like that?”
He dropped the
file and grasped her shoulders to keep her from retreating further. “She hadn’t told me.”
“She would have felt so empty, so alone—”
“Dana,” he said firmly, leaning down to bring his gaze level with hers. “Listen to me. I didn’t know Sylvia was in the hospital. I hadn’t even known Sylvia was pregnant until one minute ago.”
“What?”
“She hadn’t told me,” he repeated. Were those tears in her eyes? He knew that Dana was a compassionate woman, but her distress had to be from more than that. Beneath his hands he could feel her shoulders tremble. “Dana, what’s going on? Why are you so upset?”
“I…I was surprised, that’s all.”
“Tell me the truth, Dana.”
She looked away.
“Please,” he said.
“I overreacted. Sorry.”
“But why?”
“I’m a little on edge, I guess. I’ve never been guilty of break-and-enter before.”
“It’s more than that.” He slid his hands down her arms until he twined his fingers with hers. He could feel her tension and wished he knew what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but why should she need comfort over something that had happened to a woman she didn’t know…?
All at once the pieces fell into place. Her marriage had been childless, but she loved children. She understood his pain over being away from Chantal. She had once said she hadn’t been able to give her husband what he wanted. Could she have been talking about a baby?
“It happened to you, didn’t it?” he asked.
She was silent for a minute before she gave a quick dip of her chin in reply.
He should let this go. He shouldn’t be touching her. There was no excuse, no one to play a part for this time. He had the file, he’d gotten what he’d come for. Every minute they stayed here increased their risk.
Yet somehow he couldn’t leave her like this. Would another few minutes hurt? In a motion he wasn’t aware of until it was done, he pulled her into his arms.
She held herself stiffly. “I’m sorry. I really did overreact. We should get going.”
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