by C. J. Snyder
She haunted him—all day, but at night his imagination really took off. He had only to close his eyes to see her—feel her knees against his own, ordering him to spread his legs. Then she’d reminded him a little of Daria—with her wide brown eyes and her dare-you smile.
But all that was before he knew. Maggie hadn’t shown her smile that night. But he’d found her smile later—on her DMV picture and others—even a grade school photo from when she was nine. Her eyes were stunning even then. That mouth—a little too large at nine, but she’d grown into it beautifully—he’d memorized that mouth. He had plans for that mouth—whether it took another week, another month or even another year.
Jack stared at the one picture of Maggie he’d brought along. Even that one wasn’t really necessary—he’d memorized them all. At least all he’d been able to find. At the age of ten Maggie Chambers, and her entire family, had disappeared.
Melissa surfaced first, a year later. He hadn’t found a trace of Maggie between ten and twenty-one. Her college records began at twenty-one. Maggie had a degree in business administration. She’d minored in history.
He’d majored in hers. Jack got to his feet, tossed a few bills to the bartender and strode out of the bar and through the lobby. Tomorrow would be an early morning. He ignored the elevator and took the stairs—three at a time. If he didn’t find her soon, he would have to find a gym. He doubted a punching bag would help, but a workout might ease some of the tension that kept him up at night.
In bed after a cool shower that only keyed him up more, he remembered the beauty in the bar. He cursed Maggie all over again. Two long years, but he could still recall every second of their brief encounter. Those eyes of hers. Mysterious—hiding things he could only guess at. He’d read fear—terror even, as she pointed that big gun. Rare intelligence was there too—and determination. She didn’t want to search his pockets. Disappointment crept into her eyes when she figured out Frank’s keys weren’t the ones she was after. Courage. She had buckets of grit. He’d read it all there as she’d overcome her fear and faced him down.
All of that intrigued him. But her courage didn’t keep him awake at night. Hints of smoldering passion in her smoky eyes. Passion that scared her, more terrifying than the men she’d held up. Passion she kept locked up tight. Just an instant though, as she’d stared at him, that passion flared between them. Somehow, on that June night, Maggie Chambers had seen into his soul. She’d stolen more than that key, more than his shirt, even more than hours of his sleep.
Jack wanted her. The wanting flooded him. And disgusted him. After two years he was used to both emotions. Alone in his bed, he closed his eyes and smiled. In his fantasy, he had the gun. And Maggie Chambers stared at him boldly while she took off her clothes. The sex would be hot and hard. After he’d soothed his body’s strange craving for hers, her arrest would follow. He’d face her in court—free from those haunting eyes—and put her away.
Jack sighed. One part of that fantasy was going to happen this week. Unfortunately, even when it was finished, it wasn’t going to help the wanting one bit.
*** On Thursday, Megan dropped her sister off at Shipwrecks at noon. Melissa had discovered a new affinity for the pool table—or maybe just for Clint. He was one of the bar’s regulars who worked hard as a new construction framer and shot pool the rest of the time. Today the sky poured rain. Melissa figured this was a perfect afternoon to be at the bar. Especially since the parking lot was crowded with pickup trucks.
Megan went to pick up Sally. The waitress had a doctor’s appointment in downtown Glenwood this morning and surgery scheduled in Grand Junction the next morning. Melissa’s bus left at noon, so Megan volunteered to drive Sally. She’d only be in the hospital two or three days, but off work for at least two weeks. An abortion years ago had left the waitress with severe endometriosis. She’d been through months of drug therapy, and several minor surgeries. Tomorrow Sally’s dreams of having children of her own would go up in flames or, more literally, under the knife. For some reason, Megan grieved Sally’s loss more than her friend did.
Megan didn’t think about having children. Not anymore. Once upon a time, Maggie Chambers lived for children. Not having any of her own, she’d borrowed them from friends, neighbors, associates at work, anywhere she could find them. And someday, Maggie had dreamed, someday, she’d have children of her own.
The fairy tale ended two years ago and there were lots of things she couldn’t afford to think about now. Marriage and children were only two of them. She told herself the loss of her dream didn’t hurt any more. It just couldn’t after two years.
She didn’t blame Sally for unfortunate choices either. She’d had a few of them herself—back in her short college days. Then she’d plowed through enough psychology books to figure out she probably wouldn’t ever trust any man enough to have a real relationship. Never again would she settle for less. So, she rationalized, it didn’t matter she was on the run—didn’t matter she couldn’t stay in one place long enough to meet someone. A loving relationship wouldn’t work for her anyway.
Maggie knocked on Sally’s door. She gave her friend a hug, ignoring the tears her own heart cried.
*** Jack had been at the bus station since four o’clock Friday morning. Actually he’d been at the bus station at four o’clock every morning since Tuesday. Nearly noon now and restlessness had him pacing. With a week’s growth of beard and dark hair that was shaggy and long on his collar, he looked like he’d just hiked down from an extended stay in the mountains. In reality, he hadn’t even seen the damn Rocky Mountains—except from the plane. Some vacation.
He strode to the snack bar and ordered another cup of coffee. When he turned back Melissa was suddenly there—wafting past him in a sensual cloud of perfume. Taller than her sister—or maybe it was just the stiletto heels that made her legs look insurable for millions. She was gorgeous. He carefully set his coffee on the counter, glancing away from his second look at her legs to scan the faces behind her. No Maggie. But he could feel her—just like that warm night years ago. Maggie Chambers was close.
He searched for a good thirty seconds before turning back to Melissa. She was in line at the ticket counter. His heart stepped up a beat. He would find Maggie—the waiting would end. Maybe she’d dropped her sister off and was parking her car.
Or maybe she’d simply dropped her off— Panic propelled his feet toward an outside door. He would not lose her. Five cars across the street—little clusters of people here and there—but not a single one of them looked like Maggie. Frustrated, he stepped back inside the terminal. Melissa had her ticket and she left her bag with the man behind the counter. She glanced at the large clock on the wall and sashayed to the line of passengers forming at the door.
Jack rotated in a slow circle, scanning faces, hair. . . Nothing. The voice on the loudspeaker announced that boarding would now commence for the Denver-and-Points-East departure. Melissa kept her eyes on the door and settled her large purse more firmly on her shoulder.
Wanting to growl, Jack watched the line of passengers shuffle through the open door. He joined the end of the line as Melissa climbed gingerly onto the bus. He went through the open door before he stepped out of the line. Backing up to a nearby wall, he watched his one and only chance of catching her sister take a window seat on his side of the bus.
Melissa pulled out a fashion magazine, examined a long fingernail, and the bus’ engine roared to life.
Jack’s hands were fists. This could not be happening. Not this way.
The bus door closed. Melissa put down her magazine. She glanced disinterestedly back into the station, and her gaze actually flitted over him. He pressed back into the wall but her eyes didn’t stop. The driver put the bus into reverse. Melissa smiled—at him? No. . . Past him—her hand lifted and her fingers fluttered against the closed window. Jack swung around and peered through the glass next to him.
He’d found her. She was already half-way across the station, past the ven
ding machines. There wasn’t a trace of her long hair. A baseball cap smashed a headful of red curls. Jack didn’t need her hair. There was another part of her anatomy he wouldn’t ever forget. The sweet curve of her ass was the last part of her he’d seen two years ago.
This time he doubted she had a gun. She slid through the crowd inside and Jack’s feet moved faster. By the time he reentered the door, she was on the far side, headed outside. Jack leaped over a row of chairs and tossed an agitated, “Sorry.” over his shoulder to a young serviceman he’d jostled. He burst through the doors, into the hot sun and stopped. She was gone.
He ran to the street, looking first north, then south. A few steps took him to the alley. It was deserted. He couldn’t believe it. The station’s main lot was down the alley a half-block but, except for a half-dozen cars, deserted too.
*** Megan got an eerie feeling as soon as she stepped inside the small terminal room. She’d immediately spotted the man with the too-long, dark hair and a chill chased up her back. She tamped it down. The man searched the crowd—just like she did. With his scruffy hair and a good start on a bushy beard, he looked like a mountain man.
Time to go, Megan! Frustrated, Megan glanced at her sister, in line to check her bag at the counter. She’d see her safely on the bus, otherwise she’d worry for two days. Decision made, Megan kept one eye on the stranger and headed for her favorite spot against the vending machine. The location blocked her from prying eyes outside the room. For once, Melissa took her warnings to heart and didn’t look for her sister.
Like a thunderstorm gathering intensity, the small voice inside whispered of danger. Megan watched Melissa onto the bus, always aware of the shaggy-looking man outside on the other side of the glass. His attention remained firmly fixed on the bus, but her hands were shaking by the time she returned her sister’s smile and headed out. Her feet flew, taking the same route she’d taken on Monday—down the alley one half-block, through the short parking lot, down another half-block. All the while, her stomach churned.
Stay calm. Running will only draw attention.
Her feet didn’t care. By the time she rounded the third corner, they pounded the pavement in a blur. Paranoia followed her around two more corners. The panicked shudders didn’t subside even five blocks away. Megan dropped into her car after a hasty glance around but her hands shook too much to put the key into the ignition, which only increased her agitation. She kept a close eye on her windshield and the rear view mirror as she willed her heart to beat within the confines of her chest again.
Months ago, the terror attacks were frequent visitors in her life, arriving without warning, sometimes lasting days at times, nearly familiar in their intensity. while, given her reaction to this one. Was she becoming careless? the shaggy-haired man at the bus station and shuddered again. Obviously, it had been a
Reckless? She pictured “Not Jack,” she murmured, able at last to insert her key into the ignition. “Not even a cop. Probably some homeless vet.” An uneasy feeling of disaster-barely-averted settled over her as she started her car. With another glance at the sidewalk around her, she pulled away from the curb and gave a salute to her subconscious. “Warning received.” The panic attack had served its purpose. Next year when Melissa came to visit, it wouldn’t be here. And she wouldn’t be Megan Chase.
Jack spent ten minutes searching the side streets. Urgency billowed—a demanding fire in his gut. His feet took him back inside the bus station. Instead of smashing his fist into its solid brick wall, he strode quickly through the dissipating crowd to the ticket window. “Bus for Chicago?” he asked. Melissa started her trip there nearly a week ago.
“Just missed it, buddy. Pulled out fifteen minutes ago. Next one’s in an hour, but it’s a local—makes for a long trip. There’s an express at four-thirty-five.”
Undaunted, Jack smiled. Plan B wasn’t nearly as good as Plan A, but he hadn’t come this far to give up now. “The bus that just left. Where else does it stop?”
*** Megan headed east on I-70. Melissa would be back at home in Chicago by tomorrow evening. How many hearts would she break along the way? Megan smiled. She’d find out Sunday morning when they had their carefully scheduled call.
In the meantime, her heart beat calm and her hands were steady. All remaining vestiges of her paranoia faded away as she maneuvered the quick turns through DeBeque Canyon. She sighed her satisfaction. The sloping valley stretched out around her, its spring welcome mat green and glorious. Red butte cliffs towered above on either side and the wide, rolling Colorado river teased the highway, tumbling left, then right. Massive globe willows swayed in a gentle breeze above the scene, cheering the river on with their thin dancing branches.
A person could live here, she thought contentedly. Put down deep roots, just like the willows. The old, bittersweet longing tugged at her heart and she reached for the radio to block it out. She smiled at the seventy-five mph sign. Her car could do seventy-five. . .with a sixty-five mile an hour tailwind.
An hour later, Megan watched the river and thought about a drive through Glenwood Canyon. With its towering walls decked out in late spring finery, the Canyon would be beautiful, peaceful and serene. There would be tourists; the Canyon was a magnet for them. But the day was early in the season and a weekday. She hadn’t been up to Hanging Lake since late last summer. After five days of Melissa’s chatter, the solitude sounded heavenly.
*** Fifteen miles behind Megan, Jack stepped on the gas and shot past a truck hauling a huge crane. He had a map, but he’d already memorized the miles to the bus’ next four stops. With any luck, he’d get ahead of it before Silt. If not, there was Glenwood Springs. Or he could go through Glenwood Canyon to Eagle. He was sure to catch the bus before Vail.
Jack passed car after car without a sign of the large bus. He couldn’t shake a feeling that Maggie was close—nearly in his grasp. Leftover tension from the bus station, no doubt, but he still glanced into every one of the cars he zipped by. Glenwood was fifteen miles away. Why hadn’t he thought to ask how long the bus stopped there? He frowned. Damned if he would lose Melissa too. He’d go ahead through the Canyon and catch the bus at Eagle.
*** Megan glanced at her watch. One forty already. Her poor little car still made the trip to Junction, but it lost time with each and every trip. She gave a silent farewell salute to her trip to the Canyon and took Exit 105 for New Castle. Thirty-seven seconds later, while she drove across the overpass above the highway, Jack Myles’ rented Chevy Tahoe sped directly under Maggie’s car.
*** Jack got on the bus in Eagle. There was a seat available across the aisle from Melissa, but he took the one directly behind her. She promptly pushed her seat back into his lap and went to sleep. He stretched his long legs out under her seat and watched her. How much did she know about the trouble her sister was in?
Enough to stay away from Maggie at the bus station in Grand Junction.
Enough to know her sister had held up a federal agent at gunpoint?
Somehow he didn’t think so.
He settled back in his seat to wait. He was getting real good at waiting.
*** Melissa woke up when Jack’s ears popped on the way down to Denver from the Eisenhower tunnel. Almost as if she’d heard. Eyes still closed, she stretched her arms up over her head. Right into the side of his face.
That brought her lashes up. But instead of apologizing, she smiled. “Hi.” Maggie’s smile was similar to Melissa’s—but her eyes sure weren’t. “Hi yourself, darlin’.” He smiled back, watching to see if she liked the drawl. He could lose it if she didn’t. “Nice nap?”
“Mmhmmm. . .” She didn’t make a move to sit up. His smile deepened to a grin. This might be easier than he thought. “Where are we?”
“Almost to Denver.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the clouds floating by outside before returning her gaze to his. “Then I guess I’ll go back to sleep. G’night.” She shifted in her seat and curled her shoulder into it. He felt like she slept on his
knee. A ruse? Had she somehow recognized him? He decided not when she didn’t move again for three hours.
He followed her lead and snatched up a soda and a sandwich during their quick stop in Ogallala, Nebraska. She slept the night through. Did Maggie sleep this much? That didn’t fit with the idea he had of her.
Jack bought Melissa breakfast in Omaha, more to be sure she didn’t take off than anything else. She accepted with an ease that surprised him, as if strangers bought her breakfast all the time. They sat together on the bus after that and she amazed him again, this time with a two-hour running commentary on her fashion magazine. He nodded at what he hoped were appropriate times and fought a growing sense of bewilderment.
This woman was nothing like Maggie.
Or was she? Had he been wrong about her sister’s eyes? About the secrets he thought he’d read there? He was very relieved when Melissa curled up on his shoulder and went back to sleep after a snack in Walcott Junction, Iowa.
*** Megan was at the pay phone fifteen minutes early on Sunday. Melissa’s trips home bothered her. There was so much that could go wrong—so many bad parts of the towns the bus passed through. What if she got off for a rest stop and didn’t get back on? What if she flirted with a murderer?
Waiting for her sister’s call, Megan was well aware she felt distracted. Fate granted her an education in life on the run before she’d really needed it. Now the urge to move on was strong. What distracted her was an even stronger desire to stay. Silly, this thing she had about roots. Silly and stupid and dangerous, but that didn’t stop the yearning—didn’t keep her from fantasizing about walking down the charmingly normal streets of New Castle without looking over her shoulder.
Others had engineered it—building a new life, starting over. Could she? Did she dare take that risk?
When the phone rang at exactly eleven, Megan grabbed the receiver with a sigh of relief. “Hi, Melissa. How was your trip?”