"Our estrangement is that severe? My father doesn't care if I'm dead or alive?"
"He would care if you were dead or alive, but you wouldn't want him to know about the accident. Excuse me. I need to put Kevin down." She tried to keep her exit from looking like flight.
The playpen had been set up in the smaller of the house's two bedrooms. She gently laid the baby in it. He instantly drew his knees up to his chest and stuck his bottom in the air.
"How can he sleep like that?"
She hadn't realized he'd followed her until she heard his voice just behind her shoulder. "A lot of babies sleep that way."
"Looks uncomfortable."
"I guess you have to be three months old for it to be comfortable."
"Did you have an easy pregnancy?"
"I had some difficulty the first several months. After that, it went more smoothly."
"What kind of difficulty?"
"The usual kind. Morning sickness. Fatigue. Depression.
"What were you depressed about?"
"I wasn't really depressed. Just weepy."
"What were you weepy over?"
"Please. I'm exhausted. Can't this inquisition wait?" She moved to step around him, but he lifted his crutch to block her path.
"You know," she said, fumi ng, "I'm getting sick and tired of you using that damn crutch like a tollgate."
"And I'm sick and tired of your evasions. Answer me: Why were you depressed and weepy while you were pregnant? Didn't you want to be pregnant?"
She didn't have the energy to remain angry. Her ire evaporated and she said wearily, "Hormonal changes in the first trimester often make women weepy. And yes, I wanted Kevin very badly."
"Did I?"
Their gazes locked for several seconds, then she calmly moved the crutch aside. "I'm going to take a bath."
She switched off the light. But no sooner was it extinguished than a pair of car lights swept the front of the house and beamed directly into the bedroom.
"Oh my God!" Kendall whirled around and stumbled to ward the window i flattening herself against the wall. Her heart was pounding. She watched in fear as the car rolled to a stop.
Then it just sat there idling at the end of the lane, the headlights aimed like searchlights at the front of the house.
The fog and rain lent it the properties of a leviathan, making it appear large and menacing, its motor sounding like a growl.
She heard his bump-thump approach. "Don't let them see you!" she snapped. "Get away from the window."
He froze in place. Neither of them moved. Kendall didn't even breathe, until the car backed out of the lane and drove away. She could have collapsed with relief. When she was able to speak, she forced a lightness into her voice. "Someone took a wrong turn, I guess."
When she turned around, she saw him standing in the open doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hall. He looked large and imposing. As she went past him, he moved quickly, switching on the overhead light and tilting her face up for a close examination.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You're as pale as a ghost. You practically fainted when you saw that car. What gives? Who's after us? Who's after you?"
Keeping her eyes averted, she said, "I just didn't expect visitors, that's all."
"Like hell. I may have lost my memory, but I'm not an imbecile, so don't treat me like one." Still cupping the lower half of her face in his palm, he forced her to look up at him.
"You're running for your life, aren't you? From whom? Is someone trying to hurt you? Your baby?" He glanced toward the playpen, where Kevin was sleeping. "Our baby?"
"No one's going to harm us as long as we're together," she said, and she meant it. Somehow she knew that even though he didn't trust her, and despite an inexplicable aversion to Kevin, he would fight to his death protecting them. That was going to make leaving him difficult.
She knew better than to rely on anyone for protection. She could manage on her own. She had managed on her own for a long time. Still, she felt safer in his company, although, considering his physical condition, it was probably a false sense of security. Being lulled by it would be costly, perhaps even fatal.
She moved away from him. "I'll be in the bathroom. Let me know if Kevin needs me." This time, he didn't detain her.
She filled the claw-footed bathtub to the rim and immersed herself in the warm, soothing water. When she rejoined him in the living room fifteen minutes later, she was wearing only a towel that covered her from chest to midthigh. Her wet hair was combed back from her face, which had been scrubbed clean.
He was standing at the open front door, his back to her, staring out at the darkness and the relentless rain. Hearing the steps of her bare feet, he turned.
"I'm out now," she announced unnecessarily.
As she turned toward the bedroom, he said, "Wait." He hobbled across the room, not stopping until they stood only inches apart.
When he raised his hand to her chest, Kendall flinched. He cocked his eyebrow quizzically, hesitated, then touched her damp skin. "Does it hurt?"
She didn't catch his meaning until she followed his gaze down and saw the ugly bruise that formed a wide, diagonal line across her chest starting at the base of her neck.
"The shoulder harness," she explained. "Not too pretty, huh? Although it's prettier than I'd look if I hadn't been wearing a seat belt."
He gave a fleeting, rueful smile. "Yeah. Then you'd look -like me."
"I'll be all right."
"Well then, I'll see you in the morning. Good night."
His eyes sprang open. "Where are you going?"
She gestured toward the door. "I'll sleep on the living room sofa. I might accidentally bump your leg during the night."
He gave her a long, intent look.
" But if you're willing to take that chance," she heard herself say, "of course I'd rather sleep with you."
Without further discussion, he scooted to the other side of the bed. The effort cost him. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his skin was clammy to the touch when she slipped in beside him.
"Are you all right?" she asked with concern.
"I'm fine. Tired."
"Rest well." For good measure, she leaned over and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. Rather than soothe him, the kiss seemed to spark a short fuse.
"Surely you can do better than that." Roughly he cupped the back of her head and held it in place while he kissed her mouth. Not soft, not chaste, this kiss. He used his tongue audaciously, sexily, masterfully, and possessively.
He knew exactly what he was doing, too, because, even though she fought them, delicious sensations spiraled through her. They stunned her. And she wasn't the only one affected.
When he ended the kiss, he kept her head entrapped and probed the depths of her eyes.
In his eyes she saw turbulence, indecision, and confusion.
"Jesus," he said softly.
He released her suddenly, as though she were too hot to touch. He closed his eyes and went instantly to sleep. Or pretended to.
Kendall lay beside him, holding her body stiffly, afraid to stir, almost afraid to breathe for fear of upsetting some delicate balance.
My God, what had she gotten herself into? Originally, the plan to claim him as her husband had seemed clever and uncomplicated. It had worked well at the hospital. But she hadn't anticipated his slipping into the marital mode and expecting her to respond accordingly. Although she should have. He was a heterosexual male, and she was telling him that she was his wife. Based on the circumstances she had devised, he was actually behaving more normally than she.
To her further consternation, she admitted to herself that assuming the role of his wife wouldn't be altogether repugnant.
His face and body had seen wear and tear, but she doubted he could walk into a room without creating a stir among the women present. He had an aloofness that somehow acted as a magnet. His personality was austere.
He never wasted words.
As evidenced this afternoon with the three teenagers, he possessed incredible, and justifiable, self-confidence. He wouldn't go looking for trouble, but if it found him, he could handle it.
The cleft in his chin was definitely sexy. Any woman would be attracted to him.
Before announcing that he was her husband, she had failed to consider that they might actually find each other attractive.
Consequently, her strategy had backfired. She had trapped herself in an explosive situation as dangerous as a mine field.
One false step and she was doomed.
She was tempted to get Kevin and make a dash for the car before the situation became worse, before she found herself wanting not to leave.
But her body demanded rest. She couldn't muster the energy to leave the bed. Besides, where else could she go that was this safe?
It was a long time before she fell asleep, lying there beside him, still tasting his kiss, and fearing that he would awaken tomorrow morning with his memory restored in which case all her worry would be for naught.
Chapter 8
The chopper landing created quite a stir in Stephensville That it aroused even more curiosity that exciting had happened in the small Georgia community since a gangster of marginal renown had taken refuge in his girlfriend's whorehouse ore the outskirts of town and engaged In a fiery and fatal shootout With G-men. Only the Old timers remembered it.
Special Agent Jim Pepperdyne paid no heed to the bystanders as he alighted from the helicopter, which had set down on the campus of the middle school. Leading a team of subordinate agents who had to jog to keep up with him, he traversed the playground marched down the sidewalks crossed the street, and entered the hospital where the individuals he sought had last been seen The staff, previously at length by other agents who had been put on notice that the head honcho was on his way.
They were assembled in' the waiting room when Pepperdyne strode in.
After hours of grueling interrogation, his advance team had uncovered nothing of Significance. They hadn't ferreted out a single clue as to what had happened to the woman and her child. Their disappearance had been so absolute. It seemed the earth had swallowed them. "ole Jim Pepperdyne didn't believe in the g-man. He didn't believe in aliens who beamed up hostages and took them for rides in their spaceships. What he did believe in was the evil ingeniousness of Man. Over the years of his career he had seen it evidenced time and again.
The middle-aged man who bore down on the hospital staff was not physically imposing. He was going soft around the middle, and his hair was thinning at a pace that annoyed him.
Even so, he had an authoritative air thee caused everyone who crossed his path to have second The medical personnel were on the receiving end of a nearly contemptuous once-over. PepperdYne affected this intimidation tactic, although his anger and concern were sincere. He would remain angry and concerned un til he learned the whereabouts of the three who had eluded him and every other law enforcement agency in several states.
They had been missing for thirty-six fran tic hours for Pepperdyne before a dispatcher in a sheriff's office in this out-of-the way town linked the persons mentioned in the APB with an auto accident that recently occurred in ells county, Georgia, but it immediately became the geographical center of his world. He dispatched an advance team of agents, who phoned in later to say that the descriptions of the missing persons matched those of three accident victims.
More agents had been dispatched to question everyone with whom the three had come in contact. the interrogations had turned up zilch.
The wrecked car had been recovered thirty miles downstream from the point of the accident. The fatality had been positively identified. Pepperdyne was awaiting the coroner's official ruling on cause of death.
Now Pepperdyne faced the silent group, feet slightly spread the point of telling him any tidbit of information but not so intrigued that they would realize the story of national scope that any news producer would give his left nut for. So far, he had managed to keep this disappearance act under wraps. The more time he could buy before it became public knowledge, the better.
"How did they get out of town?" he asked h large.
He was almost certain that they were no longer in Stephensville.
Having seen it from the air, Pepperdyne doubted that Mrs. Burnwood clever and resourceful as she was could hide an amnesiac and an infant for any length of time There weren't that many hiding places. Furthermore his agents had been circulating photos of them.
No one had seen hide nor hair.
"Any suggestions on how they left here? Did anyone see Mrs. Burnwood driving a car?"
"I lent her mine," one of the nurses volunteered "But only for a few hours. She went to Wal-Mart and bought clothes for her and the baby."
"Did you check the mileage afterward?"
"The mileage?" she repeated, as though it were a concept foreign to her.
Another dead end. The police record head already been checked for stolen vehicles. None had been reported in Stephensville for two years. There was only One that sold used cars. Although several were none had been sold in six months.
""There's no bus service out of here N, air service. No boats and no passenger trains. How the hell did they get out of town?" Pepperdyne's raised voice rattled the window panes but it didn't shake loose an answer or even a suggestion.
With a sigh of defeat, he said, ' Thanks for your time, people."
As they neared the waiting helicopter, one of his men asked, "Sir, how did they get out of here?"
Pepperdyne ducked beneath the Whirling blades and angrily shouted, "We've eliminated all other possibilities so I guess they sprouted goddamn wings and flew out!"
Together with Judge Fargo, whose viewpoints unfortunately mirrored Gorn's, the prosecutor was a formidable foe. Not wanting to sound like a whiner with a persecution complex, Kendall also kept that opinion to herself.
"In summary," she said, "it's been Monday all day." Folding her hands together and placing them on the edge of her desk, she gave her husband her undivided attention. "What can I do for you, Mr. Handsome Newspaper Publisher?"
"For starters, you can give me a kiss."
"I think I can handle that."
Leaning toward each other across her desk, they kissed.
When they pulled apart, she smacked her lips. "Thanks, I needed that."
"It's the season," Matt repeated. "Everybody gets hyped up over football."
"Was it this big a deal when you were playing?"
"Are you serious? Where Dad is concerned, football runs a close second to hunting. He coached me on throwing passes right along with how to handle a deer rifle."
Gibb had regaled Kendall with stories of Matt's accomplishments on the gridiron. When he spoke of them, his eyes shone like those of a new convert at a tent revival. Kendall doubted that Gibb would have been so zealous if Matt had chosen to play flute in the high school marching band.
Her father-in-law scorned everything that wasn't macho.
Participation in anything artistic was reserved strictly for "the ladies," and "queers," which included any man who liked classical music, ballet, or the theater. Some of his homophobic comments were so ludicrous that Kendall wanted to burst into laughter. Or shudder.
Sometimes his ultraconservative opinions made her want to scream in frustration. Her grandmother had reared her with the belief that other people and their eccentricities should be tolerated and respected. The differences between people could even be interesting and stimulating.
Elvie Hancock's liberal leanings hadn't always been popular in Sheridan, Tennessee. Nevertheless, she had stuck by them and instilled them in her granddaughter. Kendall supposed that was one reason she had chosen to become a public defender, champion of the underdogs. That, along with the injustices she had seen take place in the hallowed corridors of Bristol and Mathers.
"Who was on the phone?" Matt asked now. "Or can't you talk about it?"
/>
"Off the record?"
"Absolutely."
"A boy was caught shoplifting this afternoon. Get this. His last name is Crook."
"The youngest one? Billy Joe?"
"You know him?" she asked, surprised.
"I know the family. The twins, Henry and Luther, are a year older than I. There's a passer of brothers and sisters in between them and Billy Joe. Their old man ran the junk yard on the edge of town. Where that big heap of rusted metal is?"
She nodded, knowing the eyesore to which he referred. "You said 'ran,' past tense."
"He died a couple of years ago. Mrs. Crook is having a tough time trying to hold the business together."
"Why is that?"
"Old man Crook sometimes didn't wait on salvaged cars to update his inventory. Customers often bought back from him what had recently been stolen off their cars. The consensus was that the old man was operating the business like fencin, sending the boys out to steal for him."
"Is Mrs. Crook trying to run a legitimate business?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. It's probably a lack of cleverness, not moral conviction, that keeps her from prospering."
"Hmm. So, what you're implying is that Billy Joe comes from a long line of Crooks?"
"Ah, you're a comedienne."
"Not really. Thank you for the Crook family background, but that's probably as far as we can carry this conversation without breaching ethics."
"I understand."
He never pressed her for more information than she was willing to divulge in keeping with lawyer/client privilege.
Since he published the local newspaper and wrote a biweekly editorial column, she had to be extremely careful not to discuss cases with him. Not because she didn't trust his integrity, but in order to protect her own.
"What brings you by?" she asked.
"To tell you that I won't be home for dinner tonight.
"Oh, Mutt!"
He held up his hands to stave off her protests. "I'm sorry.
I can't get out of it."
"This is the second time in four days. What is it this time?"
"Leonard Wiley asked Dad and me to go coon hunting tonight. He's got a new dog he's very proud of and wants to show him off. Dad accepted on my behalf.
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