by Sandra Brown
“You cain’t be surprised,” Linda said. “He’s cute as the dickens.”
“They all seem to think so. Calling the house at all hours and hanging up if he doesn’t answer. Drives Dora nuts.”
“What do you think about his popularity with the ladies?” Marilee asked.
Wes’s gaze swung back to her, and he winked. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
She looked down into her cup and nervously searched for something to say. “Scott is doing well on the extra assignments, too. His writing has improved dramatically.”
“With you tutoring him, how could he keep from learning something?”
Several weeks into the fall term, Wes had approached her about tutoring Scott on Saturday mornings and Sunday evenings. For her services, he offered to pay her a modest stipend, which she’d tried to reject. He’d insisted. In the end, Marilee had accepted the offered fee and consented to help Scott with his studies, not only because she knew the importance of his scoring high on his college entrance exams but because few could say no to Wes Hamer and make it stick.
“I hope you think you’re getting your money’s worth,” she said to him now.
“If ever I don’t think so, you’ll be the first to know, Marilee.” He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling.
“Hey, Wes?” William called to him from the end of the aisle of baby care products. “I’ve got a free minute. You want to come on back?”
Wes held Marilee’s gaze for several more seconds, then asked Linda to add the two cups of cocoa to his account and left them to join William and Scott in the pharmacy section.
“That’s curious,” Marilee said, wondering what business the Hamers had with her brother.
But Linda was busy filling the order of another customer and didn’t hear her.
• • •
Lilly was still puzzling over how Ben Tierney knew she had a cabin on Cleary Peak when he asked testily, “Have you got a better idea?”
Being buffeted by the strong wind, she had to think about it for only a moment. “No. We should go to the cabin.”
“First, let’s check out your car.”
They made it to her car without mishap, although he was wobbly on his feet. She got in on the driver’s side. He pushed her suitcase aside and climbed into the backseat because the right half of the dashboard had been jammed into the front passenger seat. Once he had pulled the door closed, he removed his gloves and rested his forehead against the heel of his right hand.
“Are you going to faint again?” Lilly asked.
“No. We don’t have time for it.” He lowered his hand and peered at her over the back of the seat, giving her a critical once-over. “You’re underdressed.”
“Tell me,” she said through chattering teeth.
“What have you got in your suitcase? Anything useful?”
“Nothing warmer than what I’ve got on.”
Apparently wanting to judge that for himself, he opened the suitcase on the seat beside him. He rifled through her garments, heedlessly sorting through lingerie, nightgowns, socks, slacks, tops. “Thermal underwear?”
“No.”
He tossed her a wool sweater. “Put this on over what you’re wearing.”
She removed her coat long enough to pull on the sweater.
“Let me see your boots.”
“My—”
“Boots,” he repeated impatiently. She pulled up her pants leg and extended her leg far enough for him to see her foot. He frowned. Taking several pairs of socks from the suitcase, he tossed them over the seat at her. “Put those in your pocket. Take this, too. You can put it on once we get to the cabin.” He passed her a thin silk turtleneck that she’d originally bought to wear under ski clothes.
Then, startling her, he reached over the seat and took a strand of her hair. “Wet.” He dropped the strand quickly, but Lilly was glad he was thinking about her damp hair and not the fistful of panties he was holding in his other hand. “Have you got a cap? A hat of any kind?”
“I didn’t plan on being outdoors much during this trip.”
“You’ve got to have something on your head.”
He tossed the undies back into the suitcase and pulled the stadium blanket from his shoulders. “Lean toward me.”
She came up on her knees and faced the backseat. He fashioned a hood for her out of the blanket, placing it over her head and folding it across her chest. He buttoned her coat up over it, then patted it into place. “There. Before you get out of the car, pull this loose fabric up over your nose and mouth. Is there anything in the trunk except a spare tire?”
The familiar way in which he’d touched her left her surprised and slow to process thought. Her mind raced to catch up with what he’d asked her. “Uh, a . . . I think there’s a first-aid kit that came with the car.”
“Good.”
“And some food I was taking from the cabin.”
“Even better.” He gave the car’s interior a cursory glance. “Flashlight, anything in the glove box?”
“Only the instruction manual for the car.”
“Just as well. I doubt we could have gotten anything out of it, bashed in as it is.” He made a swipe at the fresh blood trickling down his cheek, then pulled on his gloves. “Let’s go.”
“Wait. My handbag. I’ll need it.”
She looked around for her purse and discovered that it had been slung down to the passenger-side floorboard when the car crashed into the tree. It was difficult, but she managed to reach between the dash and the seat and wrest her bag from beneath the wreckage.
“Loop the shoulder strap around your neck to keep your arms free. Better balance.”
She did as he suggested, then reached for the door latch. There, she paused and looked at him apprehensively. “Maybe we should just stay put until we can call for help.”
“We could, but nobody’s coming up this road tonight, and I doubt we’d survive till morning.”
“Then I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?”
“Not really, no.”
Again she reached for the door latch, but this time it was he who stopped her by laying a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to sound so curt.”
“I understand the need for haste.”
“We’ve got to get to shelter before it gets worse out here.”
She bobbed her head in agreement. Their gazes held for a second or two, then he removed his hand from her shoulder, opened the back door, and got out. Lilly joined him at the rear of the car, where he was surveying the contents of the open trunk. He found the first-aid kit and told her to put it in her pocket. “Some of those canned goods, too. And the crackers.”
He was likewise filling the many pockets of his coat with cans, which must have weighed him down, especially after he retrieved his backpack from where they’d left it lying in the road.
“Ready?” he asked, squinting at her through the blowing frozen precipitation.
“As much as I’ll ever be.”
Using his chin, he motioned for her to precede him. They’d trudged only a few yards when they determined that trying to walk uphill on the road’s icy surface would be futile. For every step forward they took, they slipped back three. Tierney nudged her toward the road’s shoulder. It was narrow, often forcing them to walk single file, hugging the embankment and dodging outcropping boulders. However, the uneven ground actually worked to their advantage. They found purchase on rocks and vegetation beneath the ice and sleet.
The grade was steep. On a fair day with ideal weather conditions, the uphill hike would have been a strenuous workout for even the most physically fit. Most of the time, they were walking directly into the wind, which forced them to keep their heads bent against it, sometimes walking blind through a maelstrom of ice pellets that felt like shards of glass when they struck the exposed skin of their faces.
They stopped frequently to catch their breath. Once Tierney stopped suddenly, turned away from her, and vomited, leading her
to believe that he had a concussion. At the very least. She noticed that he had begun to favor his left leg and wondered if he also had a fracture.
Finally, walking became such an effort for him she insisted that he place one arm across her shoulders. He did so reluctantly, but out of necessity. With each footstep he leaned more heavily upon her. She slogged on.
They reached a state of total exhaustion and continued only because they had to. The distance she had covered in three minutes by car took almost an hour on foot. They were stumbling over each other by the time they reached the cabin’s porch steps.
Lilly propped him against a support post on the porch while she unlocked the door, then assisted him inside. She paused only long enough to shut the door and dump her handbag on the floor before collapsing onto one of the sofas. Tierney slid his backpack off and sprawled on the sofa facing hers, separated by the coffee table.
For several minutes they remained where they’d landed, their breath soughing loudly in the darkness. Because she had turned off the heat before leaving, the room was cold. But compared with outside, it felt balmy.
Lilly didn’t think she would have the energy ever to move again, but eventually she stirred and sat up. She reached for the lamp on the end table and switched it on. “Thank goodness,” she said, blinking against the sudden light. “I was afraid the electricity may have been shut off by now.”
She unloaded the cans of food from her pockets and set them on the coffee table, then fished out her cell phone and punched in a number.
Suddenly alert, Tierney sprang up and asked, “Who are you calling?”
“Dutch.”
CHAPTER
5
LILLY’S PREDICTION ABOUT THE CHAOS IN town had been correct.
Dutch had been back for only a couple of hours, and already he was wishing for the peace of his mountain cabin. Formerly his cabin, he thought bitterly.
Rush hour in downtown Atlanta had never been as congested as Main Street in Cleary this evening. It was bumper to bumper in both lanes, a ribbon of red taillights on one side, a ribbon of white headlights on the other. Everyone on one side of town seemed bent on getting to the other side, and vice versa.
The sheriff’s office was dealing with the outlying areas of the county, leaving the township itself up to Dutch and his department. Now would have been a good time for a burglar to burgle, because no one was at home where they should be, and every police officer was busy trying to control the pandemonium generated by the approaching storm.
The signal light at Moultrie and Main was busted again. On any other day it would be no big deal. Drivers would take turns, politely waving one another through the intersection and joking about the inconvenience. But today, when patience was wearing thin, the malfunctioning traffic light had caused a gridlock that was making motorists fractious.
The officers not on the streets directing traffic were monitoring the crowds in the market, trying to prevent fistfights over the scant merchandise left on the shelves. There had been one altercation already over the last tin of sardines.
With sleet pellets larger than grains of rock salt, the rapid accumulation would soon become nasty. As the weather system moved over the mountain and swept down the eastern face of it into the valley, picking up moisture, conditions were going to get even more unmanageable. Until the storm was over, and all the ice and snow had melted, Dutch could count on little or no rest.
Glancing up toward the crest of Cleary Peak, he saw that it was completely engulfed in cloud. He’d come down just in time and was relieved to know that Lilly had been right behind him and was well on her way south to Atlanta by now. If she made good time, she could probably outrun the storm, arriving home before it caught up with her.
He still thought of her constantly, of where she was, of what she was doing. It was a habit that no goddamn decree of divorcement could break. Remembering how she’d looked at him before he left the cabin created a weight in his chest as heavy as an anvil. She’d been afraid of him. Which was nobody’s fault but his own. He’d given her reason to fear him.
“Hey, Chief!” Wes Hamer was shouting at him from the sidewalk just outside Ritt’s Drug Store. “Get over here. I’m a taxpaying citizen, and I’ve got a gripe.”
Dutch pulled his Bronco out of the line of cars inching along Main Street and into the handicapped parking space in front of the drugstore. He lowered his window, letting in a blast of frigid air.
Wes came toward him with the shoulder-rolling amble of a former football player. Both his knees and one hip were afflicted with osteoarthritis, but that wasn’t something Wes advertised. He would do damn near anything to keep from owning up to a weakness of any sort.
“You got a complaint, Coach?” Dutch deadpanned.
“You’re the number one peace officer around here. Can’t you clear the streets of these morons?”
“I’d start with you.”
Wes guffawed but immediately sensed Dutch’s dour mood and leaned in closer. “Hey, buddy, why the long face?”
“I said good-bye to Lilly for the last time. Couple hours ago. Up at the cabin. She’s gone for good, Wes.”
Wes turned away. “Scott, go warm up the car. I’ll be right there.” Scott, who’d been standing beneath the awning outside Ritt’s store, caught the set of car keys Wes tossed to him, raised his other hand in a farewell wave to Dutch, then sauntered off down the sidewalk.
“Has he heard anything from Clemson yet?” Dutch asked.
“We can talk about that later. Let’s talk about your wife.”
“Ex-wife. Emphasis on the ex, which she made perfectly clear this afternoon.”
“I thought you were going to talk to her.”
“I did.”
“No go?”
“No go. She’s got her divorce and she’s happy about it. She wants nothing to do with me. It’s over.” He rubbed his brow with his gloved hand.
“Are you gonna cry, or what? Jesus, Dutch, don’t make me ashamed to call you my best friend.”
Dutch turned and looked at him. “Fuck you.”
Unfazed, Wes continued. “The way you’re mewling around.” He shook his head over Dutch’s pathetic behavior. “Lilly didn’t know a good thing when she had it. So screw her. My opinion of her has always been—”
“I don’t want to hear your opinion of her.”
“She thinks her shit don’t stink.”
“I said I didn’t want to hear it, all right?”
Wes held up both hands as though in surrender. “All right. But it isn’t like she holds me in high esteem.”
“She thinks you’re an asshole.”
“Like I’m gonna lose sleep over what Ms. Lilly Martin Burton thinks of me.” Smiling crookedly, he clapped his hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “You’re taking this breakup way too hard. You lost your wife, not your manhood. Look around,” he said, gesturing expansively. “There are women everywhere.”
“I’ve had women,” Dutch muttered.
Wes tilted his head. “Yeah? All along or lately?”
Both, Dutch thought. He’d lined up plenty of justifications for his first affair. He was under continual pressure at work. Lilly was preoccupied establishing her career. Their lovemaking had become predictable and uninspired. Blah, blah, blah.
Lilly had shot down his excuses like ducks in a shooting gallery. He had acknowledged his weaknesses and pledged never to stray again.
But the first affair was followed by a second. And then another, and soon he’d run out of even lame excuses. Now he realized that it wasn’t his last affair that had spelled the beginning of the end of his marriage. It had been the first. He should have known that a woman like Lilly wouldn’t tolerate unfaithfulness.
Wes was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “There for a time, you know, after Amy, when I was in a bad way, I looked for relief anywhere I could find it, with any woman who would say yes, and there were plenty of them. None of them could replace Lilly, though.”
“Wes—”
“Okay, okay, don’t ask, don’t tell. But what woman would look twice at you these days? If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like crap.”
“That’s what I feel like.”
“Right, and it shows. In your face, the way you walk. Your butt’s dragging, my friend. You look about as much fun as a case of recurring herpes. That approach isn’t going to attract the kind of woman you need right now.”
“What kind is that?”
“The anti-Lilly. Stay away from brunettes with brown eyes.”
“Hazel. Her eyes are really green with brown flecks.”
With a look, Wes scorned the detailed correction. “Get yourself a bleached blonde. Short, not tall. Big titties and a butt you can hold on to. A gal that’s none too bright, without an opinion of her own except regarding your cock, which she thinks is a fucking magic wand.” Wes was pleased with his description of the perfect female; his entire face was involved in his grin.
“Tell you what,” he said, “come over to the house later. We’ll kill a bottle of Jack while considering your options. I’ve got a dirty video or two we can watch. That’ll change your outlook, or you aren’t human. Wha’d’ya say?”
“I’m not supposed to be drinking, remember?”
“Rules don’t apply during an ice and snow storm.”
“Who said?”
“I did.”
It was nearly impossible to resist Wes at his most affable, but Dutch gave it an earnest try. He pushed the Bronco’s gearshift into reverse. “I’ll have both hands full tonight, and then some.”
“Come over,” Wes said, wagging a stern finger at Dutch as he backed away. “I’ll be looking for you.”
Dutch pulled back into traffic and pointed his Bronco toward the single-story brick building one block off Main Street that housed the police department.
Before finally being booted out of the Atlanta PD, Dutch had been required to see the department’s psychiatrist twice a week. He’d told Dutch during one of their sessions that he was borderline paranoid. But what was that old joke? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean everybody still isn’t out to get you.
