The Outcast tp-3

by Beverly Barton

  He knew where he'd spend the night. Flossie, the madam who'd once run the local brothel and had been his mother's friend, now owned a sleazy motel on the outskirts of Newell. Nobody would recognize the Jeep, and the type of clientele Flossie got at Sweet Rest Motel wasn't likely to call the police if they did recognize him. He'd be safe at Flossie's motel tonight, and he could make a few phone calls in the morning before he left. He needed to talk to his lawyer. Elkins was bound to be wondering where the hell he was, but he wouldn't risk telling Gary his exact location. Not yet. As much as he wanted to trust the man, he wasn't one hundred percent sure his lawyer wouldn't turn him in to the authorities.

  He needed to call Chris. He didn't trust her entirely, either, but she was his half sister and she did profess to care about him and believe in him. She'd paid for his attorney, and would have posted bail if the judge had been willing to set bail.

  And he would call Elizabeth. He'd call her tonight to let her know he'd made it home to Newell without a hitch. She'd be worried about him. It felt odd knowing someone actually cared about his well-being.

  Maybe he'd give her another quick call in the morning before he went out to B.K.'s hunting lodge. It would be nice to hear the sound of her voice one last time.

  Brushing aside the cotton-candy thoughts, Reece concentrated on the drive ahead. He turned off onto a dirt road that led through the woods and some unused farmland. It was the long way around to Sweet Rest Motel, but it was the safest. He'd be unlikely to run into any other vehicles.

  He pulled the Jeep to a halt in front of the door marked Office in the parking area of the motel. The buildings were old, built of concrete blocks recently painted a rather nauseous shade of pink, the doors to each unit bright turquoise. Flossie didn't seem to be doing much business. Only one truck and one older model station wagon were parked in front.

  Reece reached into his pocket for the money Elizabeth had given him. Two hundred dollars. It was all she'd had in cash, and she'd insisted he take it.

  The woman behind the register wasn't Flossie but some young girl with huge breasts and frizzy, bleached-blond hair. He'd never seen her before, and he knew just about everybody in Newell. Hopefully she was a newcomer who wouldn't recognize a face that had been in all the newspapers and on TV.

  "You need a room, handsome?" she asked.

  "Yeah. Just for tonight. How much?"

  "Thirty-five bucks. Local phone calls are free. And there's a TV in your room, with a pay-for-view box. Checkout time is eleven." She handed him a key. "You're in number nineteen."

  Reece laid thirty-five dollars on the counter, then turned to leave.

  "Hey, mister, you forgot to sign the register."

  "You sign for me, honey."

  "What's your name?" she asked, smiling.

  "Whatever you want it to be." Reece opened the door.

  "If you get lonesome later on, Mr. Jones, stop back by. I get off duty at nine. I could show you a real good time." She looked him over from head to toe, stopping to gawk at the way his jeans fit across his crotch.

  "I'll keep it in mind." Reece went outside, looked around for number nineteen, then got into the Jeep. He parked in the slot in front of his room, got out, grabbed the duffel bag and locked the Jeep.

  Unlocking the door to number nineteen, he flipped on the light switch. Two purple ceramic lamps, one on the night-stand, the other on the right side of the dresser, came on, casting a lavender glow over the mismatched furnishings.

  Reece found the room to be pretty much what he'd expected. A double bed with an orange-and-purple flowered spread dominated the small space. A single chair rested under the window, which boasted curtains that matched the spread. Atop the left side of the dresser, an oak-veneer box that didn't match the bed's maple headboard or the metal rounds on the chair, sat the TV.

  Reece dropped the duffel bag on the floor, removed the leather jacket he wore, tossing it on the chair, then fell across the bed sideways. The mattress sagged. The box springs moaned under Reece's weight. Within minutes he'd fallen asleep.

  The ringing telephone wakened him. For a couple of seconds he wasn't quite sure where he was, then a quick look at the motel room reminded him all too vividly that he was back in Newell, already hiding out. Who the hell would be calling? No one knew where he was. He grabbed the receiver.

  "Yeah?"

  "Hi, there, Mr. Jones. This is Luanne, in the office. I thought I'd call and remind you that I get off work in about an hour."

  Sitting up in the bed, Reece combed through his hair with his fingers. The image of huge breasts and red lips flashed through his mind. He needed a woman, but he didn't need one badly enough to risk having sex with someone who'd have no qualms about turning him over to the law in the morning. Besides, his taste in women had far surpassed Luanne's type years ago.

  "Look, honey, I appreciate the offer, but-"

  "I could run over to the State Store, get us a fifth and we could watch one of those sex movies on the TV."

  "Luanne, I'm bushed. I'm afraid I wouldn't be much fun tonight. Some other time, okay?"

  "Sure thing, Mr. Jones. You know where to find me. I work the evening shift here five nights a week."

  Reece hung up the phone, crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom. What he needed more than anything else, even a woman, was a shower, a shave and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow his life as a fugitive would start all over again. For a few hours he could relax, here at the Sweet Rest Motel, under the guise of Mr. Jones. In the morning he'd head out for B. K. Stanton's hunting lodge. None of the family ever used the place during the winter months, after hunting season. And now that B.K. was dead, he doubted anyone would ever use the place again. Since Kenny hated hunting, he'd probably sell the place, with no objections from his mother or sister. As far as Reece knew, neither Alice nor Christina had ever set foot in the lodge.

  Reece came out of the shower, dried off quickly, briskly rubbing his hair. He walked out of the bathroom, turned back the covers and sat on the bed. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten any supper. He didn't dare risk going out somewhere for food. Rummaging around in the duffel bag, he pulled out a pimento cheese sandwich and the thermos. The sandwich was soggy, the coffee lukewarm. Finishing both quickly, he lay down and closed his eyes.

  He couldn't remember ever feeling so alone. Strange thing was that he'd spent most of his life as a loner, needing no one, wanting no one. Even the months he'd spent in jail before, during and after the trial, he'd never felt such intense loneliness. Anger. Frustration. Hatred. And even pain. But not overwhelming loneliness.

  He knew damn well what was wrong with him. He'd spent a few days with a woman who had surrounded him with attention, a woman who'd cared for him when he was sick, who'd fed him and clothed him and shared her home with him. Elizabeth Mallory had pierced the barrier that protected him from loneliness. She'd made him want things he knew he could never have. She'd shown him life's goodness, when all he'd ever known was its evil.

  He pictured her in his mind. That strong, sturdy body of soft, feminine curves. That mass of dark brown hair. Those pure blue eyes that looked inside him, as if they could see his very soul.

  He heard her voice saying his name. Reece. Reece. Where are you, Reece? I can't find you.

  His eyelids flew open; he sat upright in bed. What the hell was that all about? He'd felt her presence inside his head, felt her frustration at not being able to find him. Had he lost his mind? Elizabeth Mallory was over a hundred and fifty miles away, safe and secure in her mountain cabin.

  Reece's hands trembled. Sweat beads dotted his upper lip. He found himself thinking about where he was, heard himself repeating the name Sweet Rest. Saw himself driving along the back road to arrive at Flossie's sleazy motel.

  He flopped back down onto the bed. Dragging the lumpy pillow out from under his head, he turned on his side, beating the pillow with his fists.

  He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, but when he ch
ecked the electric alarm clock on the nightstand, he realized it was only nine-thirty.

  He heard what sounded like a soft knock, but dismissed the noise as nothing more than another motel patron in the room next to his. The knock grew progressively louder until he realized that someone was knocking on his door. Damn, crazy woman! Luscious Luanne was no doubt standing outside with a fifth in a brown bag, her motor running and determined not to take no for an answer. He jerked a pair of clean jeans out of the duffel bag, slipped them on and zipped them. He glanced over at the 9 mm on the nightstand.

  "I told you not tonight, honey," Reece said as he opened the door a fraction, keeping the safety chain latched. "Why don't you-"

  Reece stared at the woman standing outside his motel door. She wasn't some cheap blond floozy carrying a fifth of whiskey. She was a blue-eyed brunette carrying an overnight bag.

  "Elizabeth!"

  "It's freezing out here. Let me in."

  Removing the safety chain, he opened the door enough for Elizabeth to enter the room.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" Reece asked, his voice a low growl.

  "Well, hello, Elizabeth, so nice to see you. Glad you followed me over half the state of Georgia. Come in and make yourself at home."

  "Don't get smart with me, Lizzie. What do you mean, you followed me?" Reece closed the door, locking it securely.

  Elizabeth set her overnight case on the floor beside Reece's duffel bag. "I appreciate your letting me know where you were. I'd made myself crazy going all over Newell looking for my old Jeep. If you hadn't shown me how to get here, it could have taken me till morning to find you. I didn't dare ask anyone how to get to Sweet Rest Motel."

  "I didn't let you know where I was. What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You were thinking about me, weren't you?"

  "You read my mind?"

  "You let me read your mind, Reece. You opened up. You lowered your shield enough to let me in."

  "I don't want you here. I told you that you couldn't come with me, didn't I?" Reece fumbled in the duffel bag, dragging out a pine green flannel shirt.

  "Won't you sit down, Elizabeth?" she said in a mocking tone. "Why, thank you, Reece, I believe I will." She sat in the only chair, crossing her arms under her breasts.

  Reece put on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, then grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders, jerking her up out of the chair. His fingers bit into the plush material of her heavy wool coat.

  "You're getting out of here, right now," Reece told her. "I don't want you here."

  "Yes, you do. You want me and you need me." Elizabeth stared him directly in the eye, her look daring him to deny her statement.

  "I can't let you stay with me! I'm running from the law, goddammit. If you stay with me, you could get killed."

  "And if I leave you, you'll be all alone."

  When she tried to touch his face, he released his hold on her and shoved her away from him. "I've been alone all my life. I like it that way. I don't want you around. You'll just get in the way. You'll be more trouble than you'll be worth."

  "No matter what you say or do, I'm not going to leave you, Reece." Elizabeth tried again to touch him. He dodged her seeking hand.

  "Get the hell out of my life, lady. Can't you get it through that screwy head of yours that I don't want you, I don't need you and I'm better off without you?" Reece saw her face pale, saw her jaw clench, noted the wounded look in her eyes. He couldn't allow himself to feel guilty about hurting her feelings. He had to think of Elizabeth, put her safety first, before his own needs. Every word he'd said to her had been a lie, but he'd lied to her for her own good.

  Reece lifted her overnight case off the floor, handed it to Elizabeth and unlocked the motel door. "Go back to Sequana Falls where you belong. Forget you ever knew me."

  Elizabeth accepted the overnight case. Reece opened the door. Cold night air swept into the room. Elizabeth quiv­ered. Reece stood by the door, his gaze riveted to the floor.

  Listening for her footsteps, he waited for her to walk past him. He waited and waited and waited. Then he heard the bathroom door close.

  He slammed shut the outside door. "Elizabeth!"

  Chapter 6

  She ignored his constant beating on the door, dismissed his ranting words and made no effort to remove herself from the bathroom. Reece gave up, flipped on the television and sat at the foot of the bed. What the hell was he going to do with her?

  He had never met anyone like Elizabeth Mallory. She was an enigma to him, a riddle without an answer. He'd left her in Sequana Falls, back where she was safe. He'd thought he'd never see her again. But here she was, in his motel room, locked in the bathroom and not listening to reason.

  She was so damned sure she could help him, was determined to stay with him until they found B. K. Stanton's real murderer. Despite the fact that Elizabeth insisted that she possessed special psychic talents, Reece had his doubts. He was a man who didn't believe in anything if he couldn't see it, feel it, smell it, taste it or touch it; she expected him to believe that she could read minds, forecast the future and sense events occurring miles away.

  One thing was for sure, she'd found him at this godawful motel on the seedy outskirts of Newell. But that feat hadn't necessarily taken any psychic powers. Maybe she'd simply gotten lucky. That's what he wanted to believe.

  But he could not dismiss the nagging sense that Elizabeth had spoken to him from miles away, that she'd called out his name, that she had asked him where he was and told him she couldn't find him. Hell, when she'd showed up at his door he'd accused her of reading his mind. He didn't want to think she'd gotten inside him, that all this hocus-pocus stuff she'd been telling him was true, but dammit, he couldn't get the sound of her voice out of his head.

  It didn't matter whether or not Elizabeth was psychic and might be able to use her powers to help him. He could not allow her to stay with him. He was a fugitive on the run, a convicted murderer. If she stayed with him, her life would be in danger. He wouldn't let her take the risk.

  Besides, she'd just get in the way, he told himself. The woman didn't mean anything to him. He couldn't allow himself to care. He couldn't indulge in any weakness, and that's what caring about another person was-a weakness. His mother had loved B. K. Stanton. The man had been Blanche's weakness, and her mindless love for another woman's husband had destroyed her. No one, other than Blanche, had ever held a place in Reece's heart. He had never loved anyone, and he never would. That was a promise he'd made himself a long time ago, one he intended to keep.

  Elizabeth took her time in the bathroom, dreading the thought of facing Reece again. He hadn't been happy to see her. No doubt he was out there now thinking of ways to make her leave. What he didn't know was that there was nothing he could say or do to make her go away. She had every intention of staying with him and helping him, whether he wanted her to or not.

  She'd hung her heavy coat on the door rack, then stripped out of her jeans, sweater and shirt, peeling away the layers until she got down to her thermal underwear. She wasn't a femme fatale by any stretch of the imagination; her experience with men was quite limited. A more worldly wise woman would have come prepared with a slinky black negligee and a bottle of wine. She would have used her feminine wiles to seduce Reece, and thus bring him around to her way of thinking.

  Elizabeth glanced down at her underwear. A splattering of tiny peach flowers gave the soft, beige cotton knit material a feminine appearance, but she certainly didn't look sexy covered from neck to ankles in her long johns. Well, it didn't matter how she looked because she had no intention of seducing Reece.

  Regardless of what he said or did, she would not allow him to send her back to Sequana Falls. She had risked too much coming to him. No one knew he'd spent four days in her home, no one except Aunt Margaret and Sam, and they weren't going to tell anyone. If she hadn't followed Reece, she would have been safe-safe from the police if they caught him, and safe from the outpouring of emotions
that always bombarded her whenever she went out into the world. Coming through Newell had been difficult, sensing random feelings, picking up fragments of thoughts, looking out the window at a middle-aged couple and knowing the woman would lose her husband in less than a year.

  Come what may, whether he wanted her or not, she could not leave Reece. He needed her. Even though she couldn't see into his future any more clearly than she could reach into his mind, she knew she was meant to save him. Her own instincts told her that much. Aunt Margaret had sensed the same.

  "You must save him, Elizabeth. No one else can," her aunt had told her when she'd left MacDatho in the old woman's care. "Only you can save him from himself."

  Elizabeth washed her face, scrubbing away the light makeup she wore. Picking up her clothes, she eased open the bathroom door and glanced at Reece sitting on the edge of the bed. She couldn't hide in the bathroom all night; sooner or later she would have to face him. Now was as good a time as any.

  A soft rapping on the outside door halted Elizabeth's first step out of the bathroom. Reece jerked around, his body tense, then he got up, walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. Elizabeth heard him laugh. He swung open the door.

  "You're late," Reece said. "I expected you earlier."

  Elizabeth didn't see the visitor until Reece moved out of the way, revealing a curvy blonde in a hot pink jumpsuit dotted with rhinestones, and with a white fake-fur jacket hanging around her shoulders. Holding up a brown paper bag, the woman pulled out a bottle of whiskey and offered it to Reece.

  "Come on in out of the cold...er.. .uh...Luanne." Reece closed the door behind the woman, then accepted the liquor, slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her up against him.

  "Now this is the kind of reception I was hoping for, Mr. Jones." Dropping her jacket on the floor, Luanne rubbed herself against Reece, her dark pink lips curving into a self-satisfied smile.