“But if that’s the case, who killed Porterfield?”
At the sound of a car approaching from behind them, Sam pulled her farther off the side of the road and stepped forward to flag it down. The driver was coming on slowly, and he spotted them at once. He coasted to a stop and stepped partially out of his sedan.
“You two belong to that pickup truck back there?”
“Yes, sir. The brakes went,” Sam explained.
“Are you hurt?”
“Bruised and battered. Nothing serious.”
“You’re lucky. I was just on my way to find a telephone. Hop in and I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.”
“Thanks.”
Tuning out the conversation, Marly let Sam handle the introductions and explanations. She couldn’t stop the chaotic flow of her thoughts. Sam’s situation was overwhelming. It was so hard to believe he was connected, even peripherally, to her ex-husband’s death. She didn’t want to think about it. She particularly didn’t want to think about how it might tie into her own problems, but Sam had firmly planted the seeds of doubt about her staff. She just couldn’t see how the two were related.
The threatening phone calls had started before Sam showed up. Yet they had emanated from the bunkhouse, and Jake was the one who’d answered the phone. Somehow, she didn’t want Jake to be guilty of terrorizing her, but who did that leave? Keefer? Lou?
Carter was the obvious suspect. He had been furious when he found out she told Porterfield about the calls and the incidents that had been plaguing her. His anger had seemed oddly misplaced, even at the time. Had he been furious because he was behind those incidents? Because he was afraid the police would investigate?
Why had Porterfield gone to her barn last night? He’d told her his family was leaving on vacation. Could she really believe Carter or Jake capable of murder, or was all this related to Sam and, ultimately, to her exhusband?
“Here you go, folks.”
She looked up to see the hospital emergency room in front of them. “Come on. Let’s get you examined,” Sam said.
“No I—”
“Thanks for coming to our rescue,” Sam said to the driver.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait and give you a lift someplace?”
“No, thanks. Her brother will come as soon as we call. Thanks again Appreciate it.”
Sam slipped from the car and helped her from the seat. Her muscles protested every movement, shocking her with their stiffness.
“I don’t have a brother,” she said quietly as they watched their rescuer drive off.
“Me either, but wait till you meet my sister.” His grin cheered her. “You talked to her already.”
“I did?”
“Mrs. Norton. My reference?”
“That was your sister? No wonder she gave you such an outstanding recommendation.”
“Yeah. She thought she was helping me with a police cover when I called her.”
“She doesn’t know you’re in trouble?”
“Nope. And when she finds out the truth and gets her hands on me, she’ll wring my neck. Come on, we’ll get you checked out.”
Marly protested. “You can’t afford to waste that kind of time, can you, Sam?”
“I didn’t say I was gonna let them check me.”
“That’s what I thought. I feel fine.” It was only a tiny white lie. “Let’s go see Chris instead.”
“Marly, I think you should let a doctor look at you. We were jounced around pretty good when that truck rolled.”
“And that cut on your hand should be washed out, and the bruise on your head looked at, as well.” He frowned, and she pushed home the point. “I guess you won’t scare Chris to death looking like that. Let’s go talk to him.”
“You’re a stubborn woman, you know that?”
“Thank you.” The automatic doors swung inward, and Marly strode inside, ignoring the fear in her mind and the twinges her muscles were sending her body.
They drew surprisingly few looks inside the hospital itself. Chris was sitting up in bed, his eyes glued to the cartoon show on the television set on the wall. The remains of his breakfast were on a tray, and only two of the other beds in the ward were occupied. One boy was asleep and the other one was absorbed in a different television show.
Chris started to smile when he saw Marly, but then he looked past her and must have seen Sam. The smile disappeared, replaced by a look of caution.
“Hi, Chris,” she said.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Sam pulled a chair over close to the bed and indicated with a nod that Marly should sit. Grateful, she did, watching as Sam perched on the bottom edge of the hospital bed. He tilted back his battered hat in a gesture that had become very familiar to her.
“You gave us quite a scare, kid,” he told the boy. “But you look a lot better now than you did yesterday. Still have a headache?”
Chris gave a small nod.
“Nice shiner,” Sam said. “Zeke’s nose is still swollen, too.”
Chris touched his eye gingerly, but didn’t look at Sam. Marly could see how nervous he was. “Why’d you run away, Chris?” she asked.
The boy didn’t move.
“It’s okay, kid. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
Chris looked up at Sam’s words, and his eyes darted from one adult to the other, as if measuring the truth of their words.
“Your face has blood on it,” he said timidly.
Sam touched a finger to his check. “So it does. Marly and I had a small accident.”
“There’s blood on your hand, too,” the boy pointed out nervously.
“I told you it needed to be washed,” Marly scolded.
“Women. They’ve always gotta nag a man,” he said to Chris. The boy didn’t smile back. “Okay, boss, I’ll go wash up.” He stood and disappeared inside the small bathroom. An aide appeared in the doorway a moment later to collect the breakfast tray.
“What kind of accident?” Chris asked suspiciously as soon as the woman left.
Marly debated about telling him the truth, but there was an adult expectancy in his look. “It wasn’t serious. The brakes failed on my truck. Sam was able to bring it to a stop in the grass.”
Sam stepped from the bathroom. His face was washed The small cuts were hardly noticeable, but he had wrapped his hand again, this time in a towel.
“Shortage of bandages in the bathroom,” he explained when he saw her pointed stare, “but it doesn’t need stitches.” He sat back down at the end of the bed and faced the boy. “I need your help, Chris.” He didn’t whisper, yet his voice barely carried to where Marly sat. “Remember the night of the shooting?”
Instantly fear distorted the child’s features. “No way, man. I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sam’s expression remained unperturbed. “Officer Porterfield was killed last night. Seems like the feller who murdered him is trying to frame me for that killing, too.”
“I don’t know nothin’.” Chris scooted backward until his spine came into contact with the headboard.
“Sam’s in trouble, Chris,” Marly protested. “You have to help him if you can.”
“I don’t know nothin’.” He looked frantic, as if he wanted to scramble from the bed and flee down the hall. His lower lip trembled as his eyes darted about in search of safety. He kept shaking his head from side to side.
Sam reached out and patted his ankle. Chris jumped and pulled his leg away from the contact. His fear wrenched at her. Apparently it did the same to Sam.
“It’s okay, Chris,” he said softly. “I’ll find another way to get help.”
Marly didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry Sam wasn’t pushing. Chris had been there the night Matt was killed. That much was obvious, but so was his terror.
“You don’t have to be afraid of Officer Porterfield anymore, Chris,” she told him.
“Ma
rly…” Sam shook his head.
Chris, however, stared at her blankly.
“We know he killed the man in the park, but he can’t hurt you anymore.”
Instead of being reassured by her words, Chris swung his head from side to side. “No, he didn’t.” He clamped a hand over his mouth, his gray eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know nothin’,” he mumbled.
Marly’s heart slammed against her chest. She didn’t know what to say. Sam, however, stood and pulled her to her feet. When she was standing, he repositioned the chair. Chris never took his eyes from Sam.
“It’s okay, kid. We’re leaving. Just remember one thing. You don’t have to always live on the streets. Marly tried to show you that there’s other places, other ways you can live. All you gotta do is keep your nose clean, get an education, and work hard. Think about it.”
“I can’t tell you,” Chris protested.
“I understand. I’ll work it out. Take it easy, Chris.”
Marly let Sam leave before she faced the boy “If you can tell me what happened that night, call me. Okay, Chris? Anytime. You can even call me collect.”
“I can’t.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Chris shook his head.
“Okay, honey. I’ll call your aunt to check on you later.”
She found Sam leaning against the door, his expression completely unreadable.
“Don’t push him, Marly. He’s scared.”
“I know, but he was there. He knows something. Maybe if he thought we could protect him—”
“He knows better. Protect him how? From whom?”
“Sam, he said Porterfield didn’t kill Matt.”
“I heard him.” They started toward the staircase.
“What does that mean?”
“That I picked the wrong offender?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Fine. How are we going to get home?” Marly asked as they headed down the stairs.
Sam didn’t look at her. “You’re going to call the farm and have Keefer or Lou come and pick you up.”
“Not likely. What am I supposed to tell the police?”
“How about the truth? You lied last night, and we weren’t together.”
“Sam, let me help you.”
He paused on the landing at the touch of her hand. Her lower lip was slightly puffy from the accident. There were circles under her eyes attesting to lost sleep. Her hair lay tangled and windblown, despite her efforts to push it back behind her ears. She was sweet and lovely and the most powerful temptation. “You already have.”
He leaned toward her. Her lips were soft, warm, welcoming. He ran his tongue over the small swelling, but the taste of her was pure sin. She yielded so openly to the pressure of his tongue. He was hot and hard from that contact alone. She filled his senses, as well as his arms. A taste wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted it all. The realization brought him to his senses.
Marly stepped back as soon as his hands dropped to his sides. She looked as stunned as he felt. The tip of her tongue probed her lower lip, as if tasting him there.
“Don’t do that,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.
She tilted her head back and to the side as she studied him. “Does it bother you?”
“You know damn well it does.”
“Good.” She started down the last flight of stairs. “You’ve been bothering me ever since you set foot in my front yard, cowboy.”
He started to respond, but found himself grinning instead. No wonder Rayback—Kramer—couldn’t hang on to her. No mere mortal could capture all that fire. A man would be lucky if he could tame her just a bit. Very, very lucky.
She pulled open the door at the bottom and stepped into the main corridor. “What are you going to do now, Sam?”
His amusement faded as she introduced reality. “It’s better that you don’t know.”
“Well, you can’t go back to my place, that’s for sure.”
“No, I—Damn!” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back inside the landing.
“What’s wrong?”
“Someone must have found your truck and called it in. Carter’s out there, talking to some locals.”
“Local what?”
“Police,” he told her grimly. “At a guess, my cover is blown all to hell, and I suspect you’re in almost as much trouble as I am.”
Chapter Nine
“What are we going to do?”
He shook his head. “You’re not going to do anything. I’m going to have to find another way out.”
He turned and started down the basement steps, and she followed. “Will you stay put?” he asked.
“No. You’ll need help.”
“You can go to jail for aiding and abetting a fugitive.” He stopped as he reached the bottom and cautiously opened the door onto another corridor.
“At least it will make my neighbors happy. Here. This way. There’s an exit.”
It was like trying to divert a freight train racing down the tracks. There was no way to deflect her short of physical force. Sam heaved an inward sigh. He could always claim he’d forced her to go with him.
He was relieved to find no police cars on this side of the building. They hurried outside.
“Take off your hat,” she suggested. “It’s too easy to spot.”
“Good point.” He clutched the hat to his churning stomach. “Over there.” He pointed to a blue-and-white sign near the curb, some distance away.
“We’re going to take a bus?”
“Would you rather steal a car?”
“Well, it would certainly be more exciting, but on the whole, the bus sounds safer—even if we are going to miss it.”
As if hearing her words, the bus lumbered into sight and slowed to disgorge a passenger. They were too far away to catch it, but they began to run anyhow. The bus pulled away in a plume of exhaust.
“Damn. Looks like we steal a car, after all.”
“Sam! Look out!”
A familiar red pickup truck careened around the corner, heading straight for them. Sam grabbed Marly and spun her around, out of its path, even as the vehicle leaped the curb and plunged onto the sidewalk, coming to a lurching halt only a few feet from where they stood.
Sam rushed forward, intent on mayhem.
“Hi, Sam. Hi, Marly.” Hector’s chubby eleven-yearold face peered around the cab of the truck. Emma’s ashen features stared at him from behind the wheel. Zeke waved from the center seat, while Jerome jumped down from the passenger side.
Sam uttered a single oath, as he continued forward and pulled open the driver’s door. “Emma, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We came to rescue you,” Jerome told him. His face split in a wide grin as he ran around the front of the truck. Emma, looking terrified, only stared mutely.
“Emma?” Marly asked incredulously. “But you don’t know how to drive.”
“You can say that again,” Sam muttered.
Marly didn’t look at him. “What’s going on?”
The kids piled from the vehicle and began speaking in a jumble of voices.
“We came to rescue you.”
“Yeah, we heard Carter talking to Sam’s boss.”
“He said the police were gonna arrest you and Sam.”
Sam cut in, his eyes zooming toward Emma. “The captain was at the farm?” Her tight curls bobbed once.
“I don’t like him,” Jerome said quietly.
“They were gonna take us all home,” one of the boys announced. “Only, we don’t want to go home.” This statement was greeted by five raised voices, united in agreement.
Marly made a choking sound. Emma looked grim.
“I don’t believe this,” Sam muttered.
“Emma didn’t have the key, so we had to help,” one of the boys explained.
Mickey beamed with pride. “I know how to hot-wire. My brother showed me.”
Then he shrugged. “Only I can’t drive a stick shift.”
“Zeke knew how,” Hector told them smugly, “but his feet don’t reach.”
“Besides, Emma wouldn’t let him,” Jerome put in.
“But I told her what to do,” Zeke added cheerfully.
“Resourceful little monkeys, aren’t they?” Sam said. Then his attention was drawn to the front of the building. “Marly, get in the truck,” he ordered before she could respond. “You guys pile in the back. Move!”
Marly followed the path his gaze had taken. “Oh, sugar. Hurry, boys.”
Two security guards started across the lawn in their direction. Marly raced around to get in beside Emma, who scooted over onto the middle seat. The kids scrambled into the bed of the truck, except for Jerome. He squeezed onto the front seat next to Emma. Sam started to protest, decided there wasn’t time, and plopped his hat on Jerome’s small head before sliding in beside the boy. With a casual wave to the men heading in their direction, he backed the truck off the sidewalk and made an illegal U-turn.
“What are we going to do?” Marly asked.
Sam flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. The security men stopped to watch, no doubt memorizing the license number. “I don’t know. I’m thinking.”
“Well, do it faster.”
“Very funny. Is there a Metro station around here?”
“Not close. There’s one in Rockville, and one on Shady Grove Road.”
“Pick one and give me directions,” he demanded as they reached the traffic light.
“Turn right.” Marly issued instructions without further prompting. Emma didn’t say a word.
“Why are we going to the Metro station?” Marly finally asked as he turned down a residential street.
“We need to disappear.”
“With the boys?”
“Unless you want to leave them along the side of the road somewhere. After all, they did come to rescue us, right, Jerome?”
A huge grin beneath the impossibly large hat was his answer. Jerome removed the hat and held it in his lap. “Emma isn’t a very good driver,” he said.
Sam chuckled, and Emma nodded in agreement.
“Sam, how can you laugh about any of this?” Marly demanded.
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