Beside her, Rudy smelled like a Slim Jim, and its long plastic sleeve clung to the side of the trash can. “You want to get down and hide?”
“Yes. But I think he’s supposed to see me.”
Rudy groaned. “He looked all right, a little slick maybe, but—”
Someone moved across the tinted storefront windows and came in the door. A jolt shot through her as she came face-to-face with the person she despised. Not a politician who’d done time, though he might have presented that way to Rick, but a maniacal holy man whose brains got too hot in the desert. He knew she saw through him and didn’t try to hide it.
“Hello, Quinn.” Malice marred the jovial tone he aped, matching the shadow in his eyes.
She raised her chin. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“That’s why you trashed my house and destroyed my things?” She felt Rudy stiffen.
Markham’s face settled into a cold stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come out where we can discuss it.”
Rudy stirred. “She’s fine where she is.”
“Listen, you big goob—”
Rudy slid the gun from the shelf where he’d concealed it and held it across his hips.
“Are you kidding me?” Markham’s scorn came through every word.
“It’s loaded with buckshot. Won’t take down a bear, but human flesh is softer.”
Erin saw the Range Rover pull up to the pumps and said, “You need to leave.”
Eyes narrowed to slits, Markham hissed, “You bought a Maserati with my money.”
She almost denied it, then realized anything she said about Morgan would blow their cover. “That money belongs to the kingdom.”
“You used God’s money for a Maserati!”
At the sound of his piety, she couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “I have to get around somehow.”
He called her a name that would have withered the elders. Rudy raised the gun, still across his body but ready to point if Markham pushed it. “Time to move.”
“We’re not finished, Quinn.” In Markham’s mouth her name sounded as dirty as the other. Thank God she no longer used it.
After he stalked out, she drew up to her full five feet three inches. Since Morgan hadn’t come inside, she said, “Rudy, would you mind walking me to the door and standing there with the gun?”
“I’ll walk you there and use it.”
She swallowed a lump. “Thanks.”
He pushed the door open for her. “You be careful.”
She rose on tiptoe and kissed him on his broad cheek, which instantly flushed. “You too.”
Scanning for Markham, she hurried toward the pumps, startling when Morgan reached out the window of the Maserati and caught her arm. When she bent, he tugged the brightly colored hat from her head and put it on his own.
“Get in the Range Rover and stay down until I’m out of sight. Then head west.”
She did as he said, slouching so she barely peeked over the doorframe. Morgan peeled out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust. Almost immediately, a white Tahoe she recognized by the cross decal on the back window tore out from behind the store. She pressed her hands to her mouth, staring until they disappeared.
“Where did Daddy go?” Livie’s plaintive query from the back seat brought her back to reality.
“He took the red car.”
“Why?”
“It’s faster.” And made a flashy decoy. She put the Range Rover in drive. The GPS came on, showing a preprogrammed route. Taking a deep breath, she looked over her shoulder. “Here we go, sweetie. Here we go.”
Slowing down for the Tahoe, Morgan took one of the routes leading to Rocky Mountain National Park. He kicked the accelerator, trying to maneuver as Erin might. A little jerkier, maybe, since she hadn’t been driving high-performance vehicles for years, as he had. He leaned on the wheel around a bend, laying some rubber.
In the rearview mirror, he watched Markham exit to follow him and leave the way clear for Erin and Livie to stay on the Interstate. At the thought, a surge of fear caught his chest. Thinking of Livie could debilitate him. Concentrate on the road and the plan. Think about Erin. About Markham and the way he’d treated her, the threats, the vandalism. He thought of her courage, her temper, the way she stood up for herself and for him to his own mother. It almost brought a smile, until he remembered what happened next.
Just because he couldn’t give her what she wanted, didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her what he could—starting with escape from the trouble she’d gotten into. The slime bag Markham didn’t stand a chance—or did he?
His breath hitched as he took in the situation ahead—road closed for snow. No park admittance. He should have remembered that. The first mistake.
He pulled around the park station and stopped, hoping the structure would hide his vehicle until Markham likewise pulled up. It was his only chance of changing direction without Markham getting a clear view into the Maserati, but if he saw him waiting there, he could block him in.
He heard the other engine approaching and knew his own idle, though amazingly crafted to perform without excess noise, was not silent. Markham would be taking in the situation, wondering where the rabbit had run and if he’d missed a turn. The Tahoe slowed, passed the point where stopping sideways would block the road, inched forward, forward . . .
Morgan hit the gas. The tires squealed. With the small building between them, he screeched past and flew back in the direction he’d come, the Tahoe coming hard and heavy. Hard and heavy couldn’t match raw speed, but on these icy, snowy roads the other vehicle had him.
He fishtailed around a bend, losing seconds. The Tahoe barreled down, reckless in its desire to overcome. Instead of gunning it, Morgan carefully accelerated like a horse pulling away from the pack in the final stretch. Far as he could tell, Markham still believed him to be Erin. He pulled a slow, hard smile.
Back at the highway, with the Tahoe barreling down, Morgan turned toward town, praying Erin and Livie had already passed this spot, heading away. He’d wanted to give her more time, luring Markham in through the park. But sometimes things went wrong. “Just a little help, Lord. Like the Red Sea, Livie and Erin on dry ground, and then, if it’s not too much, I’ll slosh through too.”
Near town, he waited around a bend in the road with double yellow road stripes, then darted around a snowplow. Again with controlled acceleration, he took the curves with speed and precision until he eased onto the small, descending exit that accessed several ranch homes in a low, narrow valley.
He swung around at the bottom, fishtailing onto the frontage road that would emerge on the far side of Juniper Falls. Unless Markham looked down and back in time, he shouldn’t notice. Morgan blew out a hard breath, thanking God for that plow and one smokin’ chariot.
Hollering in frustration, Markham cursed the snowplow Erin swerved around in her dark red Maserati. His knuckles whitened like wax on the wheel when he thought what she must have spent for it. The tendons felt like lances up the sides of his neck and down between his shoulder blades. Finally his opportunity came.
He gunned the Tahoe, shaking his fist at the plow as he accelerated, then swung the wheel back, exulting, until the tires broke loose. Momentum pulled his front end as the back swung around in a spin. He jammed the brake pedal, and the IBS—so-called intelligent brake system—drummed worthlessly. He cut the wheel into the spin and slid sideways across the oncoming lane and off the pavement.
His shoulder rammed against the door, the belt jerking over his chest as the whole side of the Tahoe crunched into the canyon wall. Everything went still. No airbags deployed. He blinked and opened his eyes, blinked and opened.
With the driver’s door wedged against the rock wall, he unbuckled and crawled out the passenger side as a car crept past, passengers staring. They would stop if he signaled. Instead, he slammed the door and kicked a dent in it. He kicked the side panel. Again he kicked, and agai
n. He slammed his fists into the hood. No dents, but it felt good. He grabbed a melon-sized rock from the base of the canyon wall. With a roar, he heaved it at the windshield. Spider-web splinters stretched across the safety glass.
And finally, gripping the back of his head, he saw what he’d done with dawning dismay. The rage drained, leaving ice-cold loathing. He looked over his shoulder at more faces passing. No one stopped. No one dared.
Erin’s neck burned from wrenching around to look. Though she didn’t know his plan, she’d expected Morgan to find them by now. Her anxiety must have shown, because Livie’s intense little gaze hadn’t left her. Mile after mile, the weight of Morgan’s trust pressed down as the child’s unease increased.
“Where’s my daddy?”
“He’s coming, honey. Any minute now, he’ll find us.” The highway stretched and wound, mountains towering on either side. Like the truck she no longer owned, this vehicle was solid and reliable. She’d driven the highway many times. The only difference was Livie.
A half hour, then an hour. She reached Highway 70 and passed Idaho Springs.
“I want my daddy.” Livie’s voice rose to a heart-tugging pitch.
Erin asked brightly, “Want to sing a song?”
Livie almost refused, then nodded. “Sing ‘Sunshine.’”
“Umm . . .”
“You my sun . . . shine, only sunshine.”
She started the song, Livie watching her mouth, her eyes, every part of her, seeing if she meant it. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.”
Her voice cracked. How could she be what this child needed?
“You’ll never know, dear—” She looked in the rearview mirror and through the snow saw Morgan’s Maserati speeding up to her. Heart rushing, she said, “Daddy’s here, Livie. He’s right behind us.”
She’d expected that to be exciting news, but Livie’s eyes pooled. “Daddy.” Her wanting grew so big it burst out in tears. She’d been brave, but the thought of him so close and not accessible was more than she could bear. “I want Daddy.”
“Just as soon as we can, honey. Just as soon as we can.”
She answered the instant Morgan phoned and told him, “Livie wants you.”
“Get to Lawson Dumont. Don’t stop on the road.”
In the five miles to the exit, Livie fell asleep, but Erin got off anyway. She parked in the first available lot and hurried back to Morgan emerging from his wine-red rocket. “Livie fell asleep. I tried to keep talking so she could see you, but—”
Morgan gripped her arm. “It’s okay.”
The fear and pressure hit like an emotional avalanche. She started to shake. “Is he gone? Did you lose him? I just kept driving and—”
He hugged her briefly, tight and keyed up himself. “You did great, but we’re not far enough to relax.”
“Okay.”
“You all right?”
An honest answer would bring tears. “I’m glad Rudy had a gun.” Her voice betrayed her gratitude and relief.
Morgan cocked his head. “Did I see you kissing him?”
She looked up into his eyes. “He deserved it.”
“Ah.”
She closed her eyes. “I messed things up for you and Livie. You had a plan—”
“Plans change.” He frowned. “I just don’t want this hitting her too hard.”
The crying had been pitiful. “What do you want to do?”
He strode to the SUV and looked in. “Since she’s sleeping, we’ll go on the way we are.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “She might wake tender, so call me. This storm system is extensive, but you have good tires. Just don’t take any chances.”
“I won’t. Morgan . . .” She fought to express so much.
He brushed a thumb down her cheek. “You’re doing fine. Let’s put some miles behind us. Okay?”
The next time they stopped was when Livie woke crying as though her heart had broken in her sleep.
CHAPTER
19
Any exultation he’d felt at eluding Markham evaporated with Livie’s tears. Kissing her head again and again he murmured, “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. She had no context for what was happening. It made him weak when she wailed for Mommy Noelle. So much for gentle separation. “Want to call her on my phone?”
“No.” She slapped at it, but not hard enough to knock it loose, then clutched his neck. “Hold you, Daddy.”
He knew what she meant, but she always reversed the object with that verb, and sometimes he wondered if she wasn’t saying exactly what she meant. “I’m holding you, sweetie. I won’t let go.” Erin had gone into the gas station while he comforted Livie and filled their tanks. With only one of those accomplished, he went in too.
Erin exited the restroom looking wrung out. She said, “I’m sorry. Nothing I did made any difference.”
“She’s okay. Are you?”
She stared too long at an end cap that held nothing more interesting than tire gauges. “Morgan, you can go back. If I leave—”
“Stop it. We’re not splitting up.”
“You have to realize he won’t stop.”
“I know the score.” He rubbed his child’s back.
Her lip trembled. “Go back and follow your plan for Livie.”
“That’s not happening.”
She splayed her hands. “I’m Erin Spencer now. You gave me what I needed.”
“Yeah, well, you owe me the other half of that deal.”
“Like I’m doing so great? She doesn’t know me. She wants Noelle.”
“She’s two years old. This isn’t her decision.” Maybe too many of his choices had been floated in that boat.
Erin stepped close. “I’m thankful for all you’ve done, but it’s enough.”
This wasn’t only about Livie. It was about yesterday and last night, about Paris and running for her life. He’d found her treasures, but it didn’t make up for the rest. She was hurt and she was scared.
Her eyes were a dark force. “I’ll find some way to make it right for you. But this isn’t it. Please let me take the new name and go.”
“You could call yourself Methuselah, and it won’t matter the first time you do something that requires your social security number.”
“What?” She searched his face. “Then why—”
“I didn’t want you to take off.”
She processed that with something that looked like betrayal, as if he’d tricked her into this when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“We gave you a buffer that allows some anonymity. But that’s not enough. He’s tracing you through records, and he’s better at it than I’d hoped. You need a personal firewall, and I can provide it.”
Her face twisted. “Maybe that’s true, but I can’t stand to have you and Livie in this. I’m going.”
“How? Because Livie doesn’t ride in the Maserati.” He hadn’t intentionally deprived her of the truck she might have taken off in without looking back, but he thanked God it wasn’t in the mix now. Her realization showed as she slumped. He hitched Livie, who’d stopped crying at some point, higher on his side. “So are you finished?”
She glared at the floor. “I should have kept my truck.”
“Well, here’s the other news. I need your cell phone.”
Her eyes came up, hard. “Why?”
“It’s another connection that could leave a trail.”
Fighting tears, she took it out. He opened the men’s room door and dropped it in the trash, then stepped back out. “When we get there, I’ll put another phone on my plan. For now we’ll purchase one of those.” He indicated the circular rack of prepaid cell phones.
She pressed her hands to her eyes.
“He’s playing for keeps, Erin.”
“You think I don’t know?” Her voice had lost its steam.
He brushed her arm. “So let’s quit wasting time and energy on usel
ess scenarios and make this work.”
After a moment, she nodded.
Since Livie wouldn’t let go, he took her to the bathroom with him. When they came back out, Erin was waiting with a small beanbag teddy. Hiccupping with latent sobs, Livie accepted the comfort of that little toy and slightly relaxed the death grip around his neck.
Erin said, “Maybe for now you should drive the SUV.”
She was right. Livie needed him. “Okay. Let’s get as far as we can today.” He paid for the gas, the cell phone, and an untraceable prepaid Visa for Erin, just in case. “Any plastic you have besides this—”
“I know.”
She had to feel stripped. He wished he could make it easier but couldn’t see how. He hated turning over the Maserati, and not because he thought she’d take off. The snow worried him, the terrain and Erin’s mental and emotional condition worried him. But there it was.
After buckling his daughter into her car seat, he walked Erin to the Maserati and opened the driver’s door. “Just like before, okay? Lots of power you need to control.” He rested his hand on the small of her back. “Stop worrying.”
He could almost see the new facts spinning in her head. Had she really thought it would be as easy as getting married? Had he? The minute he smelled the wet shower in her wrecked place, reality had crashed in. She had to be terrified.
His gaze fell to her mouth, but he dragged it away. “Let’s hit the road.”
Fear tasted like mercury on her tongue. Morgan’s words had penetrated and begun multiplying—splitting and dividing and growing into a life of their own. She had thought she’d been careful, thought she’d been clever. She hadn’t even faked careful. She didn’t know how to be this kind of careful.
The new person, Erin Spencer, rose up like a clown with fiendish laughter. To keep her from taking off, Morgan had built a house of cards. It collapsed with his admission to Celia, and with a single match from Markham, it could all go up in flames.
The Breath of Dawn Page 23