by Lyn Stone
Clay couldn’t suppress a laugh of disbelief. “You can’t just make up your mind to fix a man and change him. People are what they are. They don’t change. Not really.”
“Bring out the better qualities in him, then,” she explained. “Help him realize his full potential.” She shot him a sly look. “Sort of like me, attempting to make you laugh. You hardly ever do, I bet, yet I dragged one or two chuckles out of you and you loosened up a little. Ergo, I made a small fix.”
He studied her, wondering whether she was teasing him or dead serious. “You felt a need to fix me?”
She grinned. “Oh yeah, can’t help it. You’ve got a bad-boy streak yourself, Senate. I think it’s that scowl. Maybe the way you sort of swagger when you walk.”
“Swagger?” Clay scoffed, but realized that he felt a little flattered by the thought that Vanessa considered him worth fixing. She had changed him to some degree, he had to admit that. He had never unbent enough to kiss someone he was working with. “I have never swaggered in ray life.”
She laughed. “Okay, I made that up. Actually you move with the grace of a dangerous cat. How’s that? Everybody knows cats are bad. I could remedy that walk of yours. Teach you a little klutzy stumble.”
Clay cleared his throat to hide his amusement and put on that scowl she was talking about. “We should get back over to the office and see how the search is going,” he said in an attempt to direct the subject back to the investigation.
“They’ll call if they find anything or he’s spotted again. Did I answer your question?” she asked as she drove. “About my cousin’s choice of husband, I mean?”
“She was young, impressionable and badly misled.”
“And compassionate,” Vanessa told him. “There’s a powerful incentive to try to reform a guy. Too bad it didn’t work.”
The radio interrupted. Mike reported that officers questioning employees at local stores had turned up a sighting of Hightower at one of the Jiffy Marts less than an hour before he’d been seen at Cade’s Cove. “He purchased gas, a case of cold drinks, candy bars, milk and a couple of boxes of cereal,” the officer informed them. “And a stuffed toy.”
Clay’s senses tingled with apprehension. “If Hightower thinks he’s so entitled to everything he’s lost, he might be including fatherhood in that.”
For the first time, Clay saw fear in Vanessa’s eyes. She took a sharp right at the next intersection and sped up, heading in the direction of the cutoff to her grandparents’ home. “Get my folks on the phone and give my grandfather a heads-up,” she ordered. “Speed dial two.”
“Take it easy,” Clay warned when she narrowly missed clipping the bumper of a delivery truck. “Hightower’s headed north. Dilly will be safe until we can get her relocated.”
She flashed him a look of fright. “These roads coil around like a damn snake. He could easily get to the grans from the north side of town.” She banged the heel of her hand hard on the steering wheel. “Damn! Why didn’t it occur to me that James might���”
“It did occur to you,” Clay reminded her gently. “You said yourself you warned your grandfather. He’s armed and on alert. She’ll be fine, Van. Now slow down before you get to that freaking section without a guardrail or we won’t get there at all!”
The hair-raising ride took less than twenty minutes. Vanessa’s approach was direct. She wheeled right across the front yard, braked at the steps and jumped out. Clay barely beat her to the front door. Gun drawn, he entered ahead of her without knocking.
Vanessa’s grandmother appeared in the hall, clutching a dish towel to her chest. “What is it, dear? What’s wrong? Why are you���”
“Where’s Dilly? With Du-da?” Van demanded.
“Down at the creek fishing. Is it James? Is he coming here?” Rebecca gasped. “Oh lord!”
“Go to the cellar. Lock it and stay there until we get back,” Van told her.
Clay hurried to escort the woman when she began to protest. He slid an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders and guided her to the cellar door leading down from the kitchen.
“We’ll be right back,” he promised, offering her a hug of reassurance. Her shoulders felt fragile as she looked up at him. “We don’t know that Hightower’s headed this way. This is just a precaution.”
The front screen had slammed and he knew Vanessa was already outside.
Rebecca grabbed his arm. “My husband is armed. He always carries a pistol for snakes and such. Look after Vanessa,” she ordered, giving him a firm push. “You go, go with her! I’ll be fine.”
Clay turned and ran. Vanessa wouldn’t hang around waiting for him and he knew it. He saw her sprinting into the woods just as he reached the porch. Damn, the woman had no sense of caution. He took off after her.
The Walkers’ truck was the only vehicle he had seen. Was there another way up the mountain? He waded into the undergrowth wishing for his boots and a machete. She appeared out of nowhere. “This way,” she commanded. “Become the cat.”
Clay knew exactly what she meant. He had been pressing through the woods with all the stealth of a wounded bear. He began following her actions, parting the brush more carefully, trying to do it as quietly as possible.
The sound of rushing water grew louder. “Up ahead there is Du-da’s favorite fishing hole.”
“Does Hightower know that?” he asked.
“I imagine so. I’m hoping we were wrong and he’s halfway to Gatlinburg by now, but what he bought at the store has me really worried.”
“Where would he have left his truck? Is there another access road?”
She nodded. “On the other side of the creek. It runs out at the old cabin about a quarter mile from here. He does know that for sure. He and Brenda lived there for a few months after they were married.”
“There’s your grandfather!” Clay exclaimed. The old man was poised behind a huge boulder, facing away from them, his weapon in his hand. Dilly was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh God, James already has her!” Van moaned.
“Do you see them?”
“No, but she’d be with Du-da.”
Clay had to clasp her arm to keep her from rushing down to the creek. “Stop and think, Van! Your grandfather would have hidden her somewhere safe, wouldn’t he? He’d never have her in the potential line of fire.”
She gave a jerky nod and released a rush of air from her lungs. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, okay. I’m good.” He watched her suck in a deep breath and release it slowly, along with her panic over Dilly.
Suddenly something snagged his peripheral vision.
“Over there. Across the creek,” Clay whispered next to her ear. “I saw a flash of blue. He’s in that thicket at our two o’clock, moving too fast to have Dilly with him.”
“I’ll go upstream and get behind him,” she said. “You stay here and cover Du-da if they confront.”
“Be careful,” Clay rasped, knowing how useless the warning was even as he said it.
More than anything, he wanted to go with her, but knew she stood a much better chance of retaining the element of surprise if he stayed where he was. She moved like a wraith and he lost sight of her quickly.
Luckily, she was wearing dark green, a short jacket and slacks that blended into the surroundings. He, on the other hand was wearing a damned white shirt with his suit and would stand out like a flag in this terrain.
He wished to God he could get down there with her grandfather and warn him not to fire in that direction, even if Hightower stepped out and invited it. Van would be over there within minutes.
He whirled around when something tugged on his pant leg and narrowly missed hitting her with the side of his weapon. “Dilly?”
“Hey,” she said, peering up at him with eyes wide. “You have a gun, too!”
“Shh. Lie down on the ground, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Just as flat as you can make yourself.”
“Like a li’l bunny rabbit,” she said, sounding excited about what
she must think was a game. “Du-da said not to move out of my leaf bed over there, but I didn’t want you to be by yourself and scared if he shot at that warthog.”
“Uh, thanks, Dilly. Be quiet now. Like a bunny,” he added. “Don’t get up again until we get the.. .warthog.”
“Okay. Du-da will barbecue that rascal tomorrow.”
Clay would like to do that right now. He just hoped they could maintain the fiction about the predator and never let Dilly find out the wild animal they were after was her father.
That was when a shot rang out and the firing commenced. Two shots, then another. In horror, Clay watched Mr. Walker stand up behind the boulder, raise his pistol and take aim. “Hold your fire! Van’s over there!” Clay shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the rushing water. And that the old man’s hearing was up to par.
Walker spun around, glanced in Clay’s direction, then lowered his weapon. He bent down, moved around the rock and headed for the far bank toward the thicket where Hightower had been when Clay spied him.
“Did Du-da shoot it?” Dilly asked.
“Don’t think so, honey. Stay down.”
He patted her on the back, his weapon still trained on the far bank, even though he knew that hitting anything at that distance would be pure chance. And he might accidentally hit Van or Walker.
Clay ached to rush over there. Van could be in trouble. Hell, Hightower could kill them both and get clean away. But it wouldn’t do to leave the child here alone. She could decide to leap up at any minute, not realizing the danger.
Chapter 5
After ten excruciating minutes, Clay heard a motor in the distance. The urge to tear across the creek and follow that sound almost undid him, but he waited, his worried gaze trained on the far bank. Mr. Walker appeared near the trees where Clay had spotted Hightower earlier. He tore down the bank and into the shallow rushing water, wading across as fast as he could. Halfway across, he motioned for Clay to meet him.
Clay gave Dilly another pat. “Du-da is almost here. I’m going to help him. Stay right here, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Dilly said in a small voice.
“Where’s Vanessa?” Clay demanded as soon as he grasped Mr. Walker’s hands to pull him up the bank.
“She was tearing through the woods after she fired, so I don’t think she was hit. Sounded like he got away. I left Dilly over���”
“She’s fine. By that big hickory.” Clay jerked his thumb in the child’s direction, bypassed the old man and hurriedly splashed through the icy water to see about Vanessa.
She appeared out of the underbrush just as he exited the creek. Clay rushed to her, running his hands up and down her arms. “You hurt?”
“Just winded,” she gasped. “I called for a car to intercept him, but they probably won’t reach the cutoff in time. I lost him, Clay. I missed.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “We’ll get him. At least Dilly’s safe and no one was hurt.”
She didn’t look mollified in the least.
“You did everything possible.”
“I should have nailed the bastard and ended this,” she said bitterly. “So much for my marksmanship skills.”
Clay kept an arm around her shoulders as they waded back across the stream. “Well, it’s different when the target’s shooting back. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“He was armed. I saw the pistol, but he didn’t return fire. The shots were mine.”
He could see her strength was spent and wished he could just lift her and carry her the rest of the way to her grandparents’ house. As if she’d allow such a thing. Instead, he simply boosted her to dry land and climbed up behind her. “Let’s go get dry. We’ll join the hunt after you rest a little.”
She shot him an angry glare. “I’ll rest when he’s caught. Let’s go!”
Her grandfather and Dilly were waiting for them. She quickly hugged them and made certain they were okay. “Did he see her?” Van asked her grandfather.
“No, I saw him first. He was over there coming through the trees. Soon as I hid Dilly, I thought I’d lead him away from where she was. I made a lot of noise getting down to the water, he ducked back into that thicket and I took cover.”
Vanessa frowned. “You should have run back to the house, Du-da.”
“Nope. He would have caught up to us for sure. Figured he was armed, but he hadn’t fired on me yet. I stayed behind that rock, between him and Dilly. That’s when I heard Clay warn me not to fire, that you were over there.”
“I saw him,” Vanessa said. “I got close, but he’s fast and I wasn’t exactly geared for pursuit. Won’t make that mistake again.”
Clay noticed she was barefoot and wet up to her hips from wading. Her feet were scratched and bleeding. She had ditched her low-heeled pumps. They had looked like sensible, comfortable shoes, but were not made for splashing through muddy, rock-bedded creeks or trekking through underbrush.
“You’re sure he was armed?” Clay asked.
“The warthog has arms?” Dilly asked, biting her bottom lip, looking up suspiciously from one to the other of the adults around her.
Clay scooped the child up in his arms and tapped her playfully on the nose. “You don’t need to worry about it, Dilly. He’s long gone.”
Her dark eyes examined his for the lie. “Can I fish now?”
“Not today. Let’s go and see if your grandmother has something yummy to eat. I’m starved, how about you?”
Vanessa tossed him an appreciative look. “Yeah, Dilly, we could go for some cookies and juice, right?” She started back toward the house.
Clay put Dilly up on his shoulders and followed, amazed by Vanessa’s sudden renewal of energy and the speed with which she moved. He understood it. Her family was threatened and that gave this chase a different sort of urgency.
“Van, you know personal involvement can cloud thinking and wreck your normal sense of caution,” he warned as he caught up to her on the porch. He set Dilly down and watched as she dashed into the house, intent on cookies. “I ought to have you taken off the case,” he told Vanessa.
She gave him a shove in the chest. “Don’t do that to me, Clay,” she snapped. “Don’t you do it!”
He recognized that look in her eyes. She wouldn’t quit even if ordered off it. She’d only take vacation time and go after Hightower on her own. He might as well leave things as they were and stick to her like duct tape until this was over.
Clay couldn’t fault her when his own personal involvement equaled hers. And no way would he lay off and let someone else look out for her safety.
He sighed. “Then show me some objectivity. I don’t want you haring off like some fired up vigilante. As it stands right now, we don’t have anything concrete on this guy. If you shoot him, it won’t look good for you.”
She nodded once, took a deep breath and arranged her features so that she looked totally serene. “Go dry off and change, Clay. Your shoes are squishing and���”
Her grandfather interrupted. “Want me to put together a couple of packs for you?”
“Thanks, Du-da,” she said with a grateful smile. “That sure would help a lot. After you do that, I want you all to drive to Asheville and stay at my apartment until this is over. Give Cody and Jan a call and arrange for them to go with you. They might be targets, too, since they have primary custody of Dilly. Our local force is already stretched to the max and you’ll be better protected at my place. I’ll call in a couple of agents I work with to give you added security.”
“Where are we going?” Clay asked.
“Warthog hunt,” she said, flipping his tie with one finger and giving his suit a cursory onceover. “Dress is casual.”
Vanessa reluctantly decided to wait until the next morning to go after James. For one thing, she had to convince her grandfather that he shouldn’t go with her and Clay. Though he might come in handy on the hunt, she needed him to go with her grandmother, Dilly, Cody and Jan to Asheville and keep
them safe.
Clay agreed on the delay. “You need a good night’s sleep,” he told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
She busied herself constructing sandwiches for all of them since her grandmother was occupied packing their clothes for the next day’s trip. “We’ll take turns on watch,” she argued. “You really have to stop babying me the way you do. It’s not very flattering, you know.”
He smiled. “My chauvinistic streak. I know it’s a problem and I’m working on it. Holly, one of my fellow agents, keeps on me about it and, believe it or not, I have improved.”
“What? Now you let her make the coffee by herself?” Vanessa retorted.
Clay laughed and snitched a piece of ham from the plastic tray of cold cuts. “Don’t be nasty.”
She handed him a knife and shoved the jars of condiments across the counter to him. “Here. Let’s see if you have any culinary skills. Make Dilly one with just mayo.”
“She’s a little love, that one.” He settled on a counter stool. “Smart as a whip.”
“Too smart sometimes. She’s reading a little already.”
Clay grinned. “Maybe you should think about putting her in advance classes. What about Montessori? I’ve heard that’s good.”
Vanessa shook her head. “Nope. Regular old classes with the three Rs.”
He shrugged. “You know if you took the job in McLean, there would be lots of opportunity for Dilly up there.”
“Man, you are trying to entice me, aren’t you? She’s not mine to raise, Clay. I do my part, but Dilly belongs to all of us. I could never take her away from here.”
“Not even for her own good? You could convince the others, I’m sure.”
Vanessa’s heart warmed toward him for his concern, however misguided it was. “Her own good is a matter of perspective, Clay. Dilly is a smart kid. She’ll do well wherever she’s educated. There’s also the cultural aspect of her education to consider.”
His expression darkened and he didn’t answer right away. He finished making the sandwich and laid it aside on Dilly’s small plate. “Of course she will,” he said, then added, “and I suppose it would be difficult for you to have a child and give full attention to your job. Single parents have it rough, especially if they travel a lot.”