Suzanne Brockmann

by Give Me Liberty (written as Anne Brock) (lit)

  A strange car sat in the drive. It was a dark shade of red — a big, boxy all-terrain vehicle.

  The fear was back in full, terrifying force.

  Luke threw the car into park, leaving it right on the street. He ran up the walk, onto the porch.

  The door was ajar, and he opened the screen and went inside the house.

  Lib's tape player wasn't on the mantel in the living room. Luke stared at the spot where it had sat accompanied by piles of cassette tapes, then turned and took the stairs two at a time, up to the second floor.

  The door to her bedroom was closed. Luke pushed it open and went into the room.

  Empty.

  Everything was gone.

  Lib's bed, the antique vanity she had taken from the stash of furniture at the Bellow's Falls self-storage place, the ancient trunk that Harriet had used to store sheets and towels and the canopy that had hung over the old bed, Lib's suitcase — it was all gone.

  The hardwood floor gleamed. There wasn't even a hair-clip or a pencil on the floor. Not one single piece of dust had been left behind as proof that at one time Lib had even ever been there.

  She was gone.

  Luke stood in the middle of the room, amazed that he was still functioning, amazed that he could continue to breathe, to think, even to stand up through the intensity of the pain that surrounded him.

  "Can I help you?"

  Slowly, Luke turned toward the door. A man and a woman stood there, looking at him.

  The woman wasn't Lib.

  "You must be looking for Liberty Jones," she said. "She sold us the house this morning."

  Sold.

  The house.

  "I'm Cameron Wiltshire," the man said, holding out his hand, "and this is my wife, Bess."

  Luke managed to shake hands and introduce himself to his new neighbors.

  "Did Lib—" he started to say, then stopped. He couldn't ask. But he had to. "Do you know where Lib went?"

  "I think..." Cameron Wiltshire looked at his wife. "Didn't she say something about... "

  "Barbados," Bess Wiltshire said decisively. "She definitely said something about going to Barbados."

  What was left of Luke's heart was demolished.

  Somehow he managed to walk down the stairs and out of the house. Somehow he drove the rental car back down Forest Road and parked it in his driveway.

  The inside of his house was stuffy and hot from the windows being shut all those days he was away. But Luke didn't notice, didn't open the place up.

  It didn't matter, nothing mattered.

  Liberty Jones was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Lib locked the door to her room with a sigh and headed for the lobby of Gate's Mountain resort. Brenda still hadn't heard from Luke, wherever he was in Texas. But the last time he called, he'd said he'd maybe be back by Wednes­day — tomorrow.

  Lib was heading over to Luke's house now, stopping by Brenda's first to pick up his key. She wanted to leave him a message, telling him where she was staying. She'd tried calling his answering machine, but he hadn't turned it on before he left town. And she didn't want to leave a note for him outside, where it could be rained on or blown away.

  Lib went down the elegantly curving staircase that led to the hotel lobby. Gate's Mountain was a nice place. Expensive, but very nice.

  She stopped short, then sidestepped some people who had moved into her line of vision, craning her neck to get a better view.

  No, she wasn't hallucinating. Luke was sitting alone in the dining room of the Inn! True, his back was to her, but it had to be him. Lib would recognize the back of that head anywhere.

  Eagerly, she crossed the lobby and went into the restaurant. He turned slightly toward her, and she saw his familiar, elegant profile.

  Dodging tables, she hurried over to him. "Luke!"

  He looked directly at her, and for a fraction of a second, Lib saw unmistakable shock in Luke's dark brown eyes.

  Why on earth would he be so surprised to see her? Lib didn't bother trying to figure it out. As he rose to his feet, she launched herself into his arms.

  "You're back," she said, holding him tightly. "You're finally back."

  Luke's heart had nearly stopped beating when he looked up and saw Liberty coming towards him. She was the last person in the world he'd expected to see up at Gate's Mountain Inn. He'd thought he would never see her again. And he certainly hadn't expected ever to hold her in his arms again. She felt so soft against him. Her hair brushed his nose and he fought the temptation to bury his face in it. When she lifted her lips to his for a kiss, he was nearly done in.

  Somehow he managed to step back, pushing her away, holding her at arm's length by her elbows.

  What was she doing here?

  The answer came to him almost immediately. No doubt there had been some kind of delay in the money from the sale of the house. She was probably waiting for funds to clear, and then she'd be off, free as a bird, elusive as the wind.

  Anger gripped him. But it wasn't the flash of hot temper that he was used to. This was cold — brittle, mind-numbing cold.

  "When did you get back?" she asked, smiling up at him. "Yesterday," he said, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears.

  Lib's smile faded. Yesterday? Luke was holding her so tightly, his fingers were starting to bruise her arms. And the way he was looking at her... His eyes were so different, so... cold. It was like looking into avoid. There was nothing there, nothing at all.

  She shivered. "Why didn't you call me?" she said quietly. "I was starting to worry about you—"

  Luke laughed humorlessly. "I'll bet," he said. He released her arms so abruptly, Lib nearly fell over.

  "Luke, what's going on?" Lib asked, her voice low but intense.

  "Gee, I could ask Luke the same question."

  Lib turned and looked down into the cool blue eyes of a woman nearly a foot shorter than she was. Short blonde hair framed a perfectly made-up face and a white halter dress hugged the woman's well-endowed body.

  Lib had seen this woman somewhere before, but it took several long seconds to register just where it had been.

  Diamonds. It was the lady who wore all the diamonds, the one who had tried to hit on Luke the first night he and Lib had gone out to dinner. Stacey something.

  Tonight Stacey wore emeralds. They dripped from her ears and lay shimmering against her perfectly tanned col­larbone.

  Luke hadn't wanted to talk to Stacey that other night, nearly two months ago. In fact, he'd let her believe there was something going on between him and Lib. So what was he doing with her, now?

  Stacey settled herself comfortably in the chair across from Luke's and crossed her shapely legs.

  He was obviously having dinner with her, Lib thought. She looked up into the coldness of Luke's eyes and sud­denly her friend Joan's words of warning, spoken all those weeks ago, came back to her. 'He's all sugar and spice until the morning after. Then it's icicle time... '

  "I thought we were..." Looking into the frozen waste­land of Luke's eyes, Lib couldn't finish. She'd thought what? That he was in love with her?

  He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. "Will you excuse me for a minute?" he said to Stacey.

  "Of course." The blonde woman leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "By the way, that phone call I made...? Daddy said I could have the money. It's yours, if you want it."

  Lib stared at Stacey, unable to make sense of the woman's words at first. But as Luke took her none-too-gently by the arm and started to lead her out of the restaurant, it all clicked into place. Lib yanked her arm free.

  "I can't believe you'd do this," she said angrily.

  One of the desk clerks looked up at the sound of Lib's raised voice as Luke followed her into the lobby.

  "You're getting the money to buy back your damned land from her," she said, whirling toward him and emphasizing her words with a hard jab to Luke's chest. "Aren't you? Aren't you?"

  Luke stood his ground, an immov
able brick wall. He crossed his arms, his eyes still cold, his handsome face hard.

  "God!" Lib said, her violet eyes bright with anger. "How could I have been so stupid? You even warned me. You flat out told me that you loved that land more than anything or anyone else in the world!"

  Standing there, looking at this woman that he had once loved so desperately, looking at the anger, the passion in her eyes, Luke felt a hot flash of pain penetrate the numbing cold within him. He was going to ache and hurt and bleed for Liberty for months, years, Lord, maybe for the rest of his life. His breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly wanted to hurt her as badly as she had hurt him.

  "I never said that I loved you," he said, his voice remarkably calm despite the whirlwind of emotions that was inside of him.

  Lib froze, as if he had cast some evil spell over her. As Luke watched, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and he knew that he'd hurt her, but it didn't make him feel any better. It only made him feel worse.

  "You heartless son of a bitch," she whispered. She couldn't believe she'd sold her house for him, that she'd given herself, heart, soul and body, to him.

  Lib couldn't stop her tears as she turned and ran from the lobby, heading for the privacy of her room.

  How could she have been so wrong about him? How could she have misread the softness, the love, she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes? She was a fool, an idiot. She'd given up everything, everything for a man who was only playing a game with her.

  It would take all of three minutes to pack her things, and then she was as good as gone. She'd get in her car and head south, away from the Green Mountains, away from Sterling. Away from Luke Fulton forever, damn him.

  But deep inside, she knew that no matter how far she went, no matter how fast she drove, her heart would still be broken in the morning.

  * * *

  Luke nearly collided with his sister as he was leaving the resort. Brenda was in such a hurry, she wasn't watching where she was going, and only his quick reflexes kept her from falling down the stairs.

  "Yowl" she said breathlessly. She glared at him as if he hadn't just rescued her from a twisted ankle. "I was looking for you."

  Luke released her after he was sure she'd regained her balance. He straightened his jacket and continued on towards the parking lot, not bothering to say a word. Find­ing out whatever he'd done to receive her wrath could wait. He'd had enough crap for today, thank you very much.

  But Brenda wasn't at all put off. She followed him. "Where's Miss Moneybags?" she asked.

  "I've never met anyone with that name," Luke said coolly.

  "You know who I mean," Brenda said. "Bleached blonde, big bucks, bigger boobs, has more jewelry than the royal family...? Ring any bells? I couldn't believe it when Penelope Green called me and said she saw you having dinner with her."

  "Her name is Stacey Harrington," Luke said, fishing the keys to his pick-up truck from his pants pocket. "And I said good night to her in the bar. She wanted a nightcap, I didn't. Not that that's any business of yours."

  He unlocked the cab door and opened it, intending to climb quickly inside, but Brenda was quicker. She leaned forward and slammed the door shut before he could get in. Luke barely had enough time to pull his fingers out of die, way.

  "You're wrong," Brenda said dangerously. "This time, baby brother, it is my business. And you're not going anywhere until you tell me why the hell you were having an intimate dinner with some rich bimbette when you told me not more than a week ago that you were in love with Liberty Jones?"

  Luke crossed his arms. "I never said that I was in love with her."

  "You sure as hell implied it," Brenda said, her eyes shooting sparks. "Damnit, Luke! You tell me just what it is that you think you're doing!"

  "I'm arranging a loan," Luke said. His voice was as cold as his eyes. "Stacey's dear old dad is going to lend me the rest of the money I need to buy back the farm from Ken Avery."

  "You're what?" Brenda was floored, staring up at him.

  "You heard me," Luke said, the muscles working in his jaw. "Now if you don't mind, I'm tired...?"

  He reached for the handle to the truck's door, but Brenda blocked his way with her body. "Let me get this straight," she said. "You were willing to put your chance for a future with Liberty on the line, in order to sweet-talk some rich society girl into lending you money?" Her voice rose with every word she spoke, until she was shouting at him. "You idiot! God! And I was starting to think that maybe you hadn't inherited the Fulton stupidity gene after all. Obviously I was seriously wrong!"

  "And you obviously inherited the Fulton trait of jumping to conclusions before you've heard all of the facts," Luke returned. "If you must know the truth, Lib was the one who walked out on me. She sold her goddamned house yesterday."

  As he heard himself say those words, white hot pain ripped through him again and he had to brace himself on the side of his truck.

  "Jesus, Bren," he said hoarsely, "she promised me she wouldn't leave—" Savagely, he turned, nearly pushing his sister away from the truck door. "Get out of my way, damnit!"

  But Brenda blocked him again. "My God, Luke, you don't really think—"

  "Move!"

  "You poor, stupid fool!" Brenda said, refusing to budge an inch. As she looked up at her brother, she was tempted to laugh. It was almost comical. Almost. If it weren't for the flash of utter misery she'd seen in Luke's eyes... "Liberty hasn't left you! She isn't going anywhere! She sold her house for you, birdbrain, so that you'd have the money to buy back the farm."

  Luke was staring at her with such an expression of shock on his face, Brenda couldn't keep from laughing. "Talk about jumping to conclusions," she said. "Looks like you're the one who took a giant leap. Look, it was my brilliant idea to sell the Harlowe house. I had clients who were seriously looking and..."

  Luke's head was spinning. Lib had sold her house for... him? She hadn't sold it because she wanted the money, because it was time to move on?

  "I talked Lib into selling," Brenda was saying. "I told her you were going to ask her to marry you, and that you guys wouldn't need two houses."

  Lib had sold her house for him. She'd sacrificed the one symbol of stability she'd ever had in her life for him. And how did he thank her? He could still see her violet eyes filled with tears from the sting of his cruel words.

  "Barbados," Luke said suddenly. "The Wiltshire's said Lib was going to Barbados."

  "God!" Brenda laughed in exasperation. "This is like one giant game of telephone, where the message gets amazingly mangled. I was teasing Lib about finding a place to go on your honeymoon, and Barbados came up as a good pick." She shook her head in disbelief. "You are so lucky Lib didn't see you wining and dining that—"

  Luke turned and ran back into the Inn's lobby. The desk clerk looked up at him in alarm as he skidded to a stop on the polished hardwood floor.

  "Liberty Jones," Luke said, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand. "What's her room number?"

  The clerk accessed the computer with an excruciating lack of speed. "I'm sorry, sir," the man finally said. "Ms. Jones has checked out."

  Luke swore.

  Brenda came up behind him. "Luke, what are you—"

  "When?" he asked the clerk. His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the counter. "How long ago did she leave?"

  "What?" Brenda said. "When did who leave?"

  "Eight o'clock," the clerk said primly. "Two and a half hours ago."

  "Did she say where she was going?" Luke asked desperately. "Did she leave a forwarding address?"

  "I'm sorry, sir, she did not."

  "My God," Brenda said. "Did Lib leave?"

  Luke turned to his sister, anguish in his eyes. "Oh, Brenda," he said. "You won't believe what I've done."

  * * *

  He was going to find her.

  Luke unlocked his front door and went right to the phone. His answering machine flashed three calls. Luke played them back, fast-forwarding throug
h a long message from the manager of the ski shop. The second message was from Brenda, wondering if he'd found Lib yet. The last call was from Rich Lowell.

  "Call me. I'm working at home today," the lawyer's recorded voice said. "I think I might've figured out a way to track down Lib."

  Quickly, Luke dialed Rich's home number. Lowell picked up the phone after the first ring.

  "Rich, it's Luke," Luke said.

  "The bank," Rich said without ceremony. "It suddenly occurred to me that Lib left town, but all of her money is still here — at the Sterling Savings and Loan. She couldn't have had more than a few hundred dollars on her when she left—"

  "You're kidding, right?" Luke interrupted. "Lib doesn't carry around that kind of money."

  "Well, apparently she had enough to get where she was going," Rich said. "Because it seems as if she's arrived. She contacted the bank and told them to wire her money to—"

  "Florida," Luke finished the lawyer's sentence. A long-ago conversation with Lib had just come back to him. "How did you know that?" Rich asked.

  "Lucky guess," Luke said. "One of her brothers lives down there. His last name is Rodriguez. Complicated fam­ily. She explained it to me once."