Determined not to think about Clint, she straightened her shoulders and exited the bathroom. She was doing the right thing. If she went back to Clint reporters would soon be huddling in clutches around his front porch. His phone would continue to ring off the hook. Grief-crazed parents would be invading his outbuildings, offering him money or the titles to their vehicles in exchange for an opportunity to meet with his wife. Even his outings in Sweet Home with his son might become media events. Real, bona fide psychics fascinated the general public. Even after all the interest died down Loni would find little peace, and by extension neither would Clint or his child.
She couldn’t do that to him. So she was going to take a page out of her dream cowboy’s book and love him more than she loved herself. Idaho wouldn’t be so bad. Her parents were floating her a loan to tide her over until she could transfer funds from the bank here to one in Boise. Gram’s house would be rented out. In a few weeks, as soon as Loni and her grandmother got settled somewhere outside the city, life would return to some semblance of normalcy again, and she’d be able to concentrate on rebuilding her business. Over time the hurt would dim, and she would be able to remember Clint with a smile.
“You okay?” Deirdre asked from the dining area.
Loni nodded as she walked toward her. “Aside from feeling as if my heart has been shoved through a meat grinder, I’m fine.”
Deirdre gathered her close in a hug. “Ah, sweetie, this breaks my heart, too. I tried to warn you.”
Loni thought of Trevor as he’d looked last night lying on the hospital bed. The little boy would have died if she had listened to Deirdre. Loni had done what had to be done. The cost to herself couldn’t be factored into the equation. “The minute I had the vision about the rafting accident, the die was cast.”
“Next time take my advice and ignore the vision. You have a right to a life, Loni.”
“The only one I’ll ever want is right here.”
“Maybe after all the hoopla is over you can come back and take up with Clint again.”
Drawing away from her sister, Loni forced a bright smile. “Maybe.”
Moments later, when Loni crouched down to tell her nephews good-bye, Kinnon, the younger, stared in wide-eyed wonder at her hair. “Did you eat too many carrots?”
Loni laughed and hugged him close. “No, it’s only a wig. I just wanted a new look for the day. Tomorrow I’ll be normal again.” She kissed the child’s plump cheek. “You be a good boy for your mom.”
She turned to repeat the process with Kirk. Then she pushed to her feet, hugged Michael and her sister good-bye, and exited with Hannah into the adjoining garage. The huge yellow dog took up the entire backseat of the rented Ford Explorer.
“Thank goodness you didn’t get me a Beetle.”
Michael grinned from the kitchen doorway. “Hannah would have had to carry it on her back.”
Deirdre punched the garage door opener. As the double panels rattled upward, Loni gazed over the cab for a long moment, then waved and said, “Wish me luck.”
Moments later Loni was driving down the block, possibly for the last time. Unable to stop herself she headed for Oak Street, needing to see for herself that a clutch of reporters was camped outside her house. As she turned the corner her heart leaped with momentary gladness, for she saw no reporters milling in front of her residence. Maybe she could sneak in and get a few of her keepsakes, after all. But as she drove closer, her burgeoning hope withered and died. Two strange sedans and a news van were parked along the street. Through the windows she saw reporters watching her vehicle with predatory alertness.
The vultures were gathering. From this point forward they wouldn’t let up until they’d picked her bones clean.
Chapter Seventeen
Clint dialed Loni’s cell number yet again, left another voice message, and then slapped his phone closed. His entire family sat around his kitchen table, their expressions glum.
“This is like attending a wake without a corpse,” Parker observed. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I need a drink.”
Tucker Coulter, Samantha’s husband, rested his elbows on the table, his forehead pleated in a thoughtful frown. “Why would she refuse to answer her phone? Was she pissed at you when she left the hospital?”
Clint tossed the cell phone onto the table. “No. It’s about the media and what happened to Hooter, I’m telling you. She’s gotten it into her damned fool head that she needs to protect me, and count on it—she won’t have any contact with me until she feels sure I won’t suffer for it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Frank said gruffly. “When I told Sharon Michaels about Loni’s being a psychic, I never dreamed this might happen.”
Clint passed a hand over his eyes. “I should have told you about the Cheryl Blain thing. Then you could have warned Sharon and Jacob to keep their mouths shut.”
“You were receiving a transfusion,” Samantha reminded him. “It’s not as if there was much time for talking.”
Clint met his father’s gaze. “I love her, Dad.”
Frank rubbed his jaw. “I kind of figured.”
“What’ll I do if she’s left town or some damned thing? It’d be just like her.” Searing heat washed over Clint’s eyes. “She’ll be thinking how bad this mess would be for me and Trevor. I suspect she’s at her sister’s house, but I don’t know Deirdre’s last name.”
“You could try to contact her folks,” Quincy suggested. “You know their last name. Right?”
Clint shot to his feet and started toward his portable kitchen phone. “Hold up!” Frank ordered. “Don’t go off half-cocked. Before you call them, you need to have some solutions worked out.”
“Solutions?”
Frank motioned his eldest son back to his seat. Dee Dee patted Clint’s shoulder as he dropped back down on the chair.
“What solutions are there?” Clint asked hopelessly. “The media and crazy parents ran her out of Lynwood.”
“Lynwood. That’s near Seattle, right?” Tucker asked.
“It used to be a separate little town,” Parker inserted, “but now, with all the sprawl, each community bleeds into the next, or damn close to it. Without heavy traffic it’s probably about twenty or thirty minutes from the city. I can’t remember exactly.”
“Can we stay focused?” Clint requested. “They drove her out of Lynwood, and now they’ll do the same thing here. What’s the solution?”
Frank sat back. “It’s called security.”
Tucker sent his father-in-law a sharp look. “Like you set up around Samantha’s ranch last year when her horses were being poisoned?”
“Nothing quite that extensive. I don’t think it’d be necessary. But it’s sure as hell possible for Clint to secure his property. As valuable as our horses are, we should all probably think about doing it. But that’s a topic for another day.” He looked at Clint. “You can secure your ranch until this blows over, just like we did Samantha’s. If it doesn’t blow over then you can make the arrangements permanent. Hawkeye Security did a damned fine job for me. That little gal Nona Redcliff was a sharp little cookie.” Frank sat back and raked a hand through his graying hair. “They’ve got electronic devices that are so high-tech, a flea couldn’t get on this property without an engraved invite. Nona would know how to set things up to minimize the need for on-site personnel. Chances are, with the property perimeters under surveillance, you’d only need a full-time guard at the front gate to send reporters packing.”
Clint sat forward on the chair. “Dad, you’re a genius. With secure perimeters nobody could bother Loni and me. We could use the answering machine to screen our calls. I could hire a bodyguard to go with her to the shop and when she’s working at a site.”
“Won’t that be terribly expensive?” Dee Dee asked.
Frank grinned. “Clint’s not exactly a pauper, darlin’. It all depends on how much he’s willin’ to spend in order to be happy with his lady.”
“Any amount,” Clint repl
ied. “I’d spend my last dollar.”
Frank rubbed his jaw again. “I kind of figured that too.”
Annabel MacEwen did not sound pleased when she answered the phone and found her daughter’s seducer on the other end of the line. Clint talked fast, determined to pry information out of the woman.
“So you want me to tell you where she is?” Annabel said with a hint of sarcasm. “After you’ve destroyed her life in one fell blow, you actually think I might trust you to fix the mess you’ve caused?”
“I promise you, Mrs. MacEwen, I will fix the mess.” A tension-packed silence followed. “I love her,” Clint added. “Her happiness is very important to me. I’ll make sure she can have a normal life here in Crystal Falls. If I fail, what has she got to lose? Nothing more than she’s already lost. Please. Think about what her life will be like if she isn’t here with me. Do you think her visions are suddenly going to stop? Do you think she’ll suddenly develop a hard heart and pretend she doesn’t know about the next child who may die if she does nothing? If you think that, you’re dreaming, Mrs. MacEwen. Loni will step forward again, and she’ll put everything on the line again. Only next time she won’t have me around to protect her.”
“I knew this would happen. Before she left Lynwood I begged her never to tell anyone of her gift again. It was her only hope of having a good life.”
“No,” Clint corrected. “Going that route, there was no hope at all of Loni’s ever being happy. You were asking her to deny who she was. That isn’t the answer. It’s never been the answer. She can’t pretend she doesn’t possess her gift. She can only learn how to control it and then hopefully put it to good use, like God intended.”
Annabel huffed with humorless laughter. “You are telling me how my daughter can best handle being a clairvoyant? When did you become such an expert?”
Clint could see this wasn’t going well, and Annabel MacEwen was his only link to Loni. He gripped the phone more tightly. “I’m sorry.” The moment he spoke, he thought of Loni, smiling impishly at him and saying, There are those words that never fix anything again. God, how he missed her. He honestly couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life without her. “I’m not an expert on clairvoyance. But I do love your daughter, Mrs. MacEwen. I can’t force you to tell me where she is. But I’ll beg, if that’s what it takes. Please give me a chance.”
She sighed. “Stop calling me Mrs. MacEwen. You’re making me feel older than dirt. The name is Annabel.”
“Annabel,” Clint repeated. “Please give me a chance.”
“The plan you’ve told me about doesn’t sound very practical,” she pointed out. “Have you any idea how much security like that might cost?”
“Yes, and it’ll be worth every cent. If you’re thinking I can’t afford it, you’re wrong. I can. I give you my word, Loni will not be hounded by reporters or frantic parents if she’s with me.”
“She’s on her way to Idaho,” Annabel finally confessed.
“Idaho?” Clint echoed. “What the hell is in Idaho?”
“A chance to start over again, and it’s closer to home than California. She’s meeting her grandmother at midnight at a place called Haley’s Junction. I have no idea where they plan to stay the night. I can only call and ask.”
“No, don’t do that. Loni’s not going to believe I have a failure-proof plan to stop all this craziness unless I can explain it to her myself. I’ll be at Haley’s Junction before she gets there.”
“That’s impossible. She’s two, maybe three hours ahead of you.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I hope your security plan works,” Annabel said softly.
“I’ll make it work. All you have to worry about is picking out a dress for the wedding.”
She laughed. “Once I get over being mad at you, I think I might just like you.”
“Once I get you broken of the habit of spying on your daughter at inopportune moments, I might just like you, too.”
After ending the call, Clint turned to look at Tucker. “Do I remember you saying that your sister Bethany’s brother-in-law has a private plane?”
“Rafe Kendrick? Yeah, he has a couple, I think.”
“You think I could hire him to fly me to Haley’s Junction just this side of the Idaho border and get me there before midnight?”
“Rafe’s richer than Croesus and probably won’t charge you. In fact, he’s raising quarter horses now as well as beef, and he’d probably love the opportunity to pick your brain during the flight.” He glanced at his watch. “But that’s not allowing him a whole lot of time. He’ll have to preflight the plane, do a flight plan, and call to get air clearance. You’ll be pushing it.”
Clint held out the phone. “Would you mind breaking the ice for me? I’ve met him at a couple of horse shows, but he’s not what I’d call a friend.”
Loni hadn’t stopped crying since she’d left Deirdre’s house. Now her eyes were so swollen she could barely see the highway lines, a problem at the best of times because she couldn’t drive that well in the dark. A night-blind psychic. Remembering the night Clint had flung that accusation at her brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she nearly choked on a sob. How would she live without him? Already she felt as if her heart had been sliced to ribbons with a razor.
And he’d stopped calling, she thought miserably. At least then she’d been able to hear his voice in his messages. Now…nothing. Her mother had called a couple of times within the last hour, concerned because she knew it was hard for Loni to see at night, and Gram had phoned about fifteen minutes ago to let Loni know she was running about twenty minutes late. Loni would have to wait for her at Haley’s Junction.
Hannah was whining to go potty by the time Loni pulled off onto a packed-dirt parking area at the junction where she’d arranged to meet her grandmother. There was another vehicle parked across the road, which made Loni a little nervous. Haley’s Junction was deserted, a place in the eastern Oregon desert where two highways intersected. No businesses, no streetlights, no houses. What if the occupant of the other car was a monster, like Cheryl Blain’s killer? Loni briefly yearned for her cozy little bungalow with its solid doors, triple dead bolts, and security system. Then she forced herself to get out of the car.
Clint’s heart sank when a woman with reddish-blond hair crawled out of the Ford Explorer parked across the highway. Damn. It was ten after twelve. What if Loni and her grandmother had gotten here early, and he’d just missed them? Rafe Kendrick had broken all the records, flying Clint to a podunk airport only twenty minutes away, but Clint had still made it to his destination only by the skin of his teeth, parking and cutting the engine of the Chevy SUV at precisely eleven fifty-nine. How would he find Loni if she’d already hooked up with her grandmother and was heading east over the Idaho border? He couldn’t check out the roadside motels. He had no idea what model car she was driving.
Whoa. The redhead was letting a huge yellow dog out the back door of the Explorer. Hannah. Clint would have recognized the animal anywhere. Clumsy, gigantic mastiffs with whiplike tails didn’t grow on trees in Oregon. It had to be Loni. Only what in Sam Hill had she done to her beautiful dark hair? He pushed open the door of the Blazer and stepped out into the cool night air. His runaway bride jumped at the sound of the door closing. Pulling hard on Hannah’s leash, she took the dog around the opposite side of the Ford.
Eating up the asphalt with long strides, Clint crossed the highway.
Loni heard the man walking across the road. She tried frantically to pull Hannah back to the vehicle, but the two-hundred-pound pup had a full bladder, and her muscular bulk was such that she seemed barely to notice the urgent jerks on her leash. Oh, God. Pictures of Cheryl Blain’s killer flashed through Loni’s mind. His insane eyes. His leering grin. The pleased gleam that brightened his gaze as he inflicted pain. The memories would haunt Loni for the rest of her life.
Hannah suddenly registered the approach of a stranger and straightened from a squat to let loos
e with a rumbling growl.
“Stay back!” Loni called to the man. “My mastiff isn’t obedience trained, and I won’t be able to hold her if she decides to attack you.”
The footsteps just kept coming, and to Loni’s dismay her stupid dog began wagging her tail. Loni wanted to bean her. Right when she needed protection most, Hannah crapped out on her.
The man finally drew to a stop a few feet shy of where Loni stood. In the darkness all she could make out was a shadow. “I sure as hell hope that’s only a wig. If you ruined your beautiful hair by dyeing it, I’m gonna be royally pissed.”
“Clint?” Loni could scarcely believe her ears. “How on earth? What’re you doing here?”
He moved closer so she could finally make out his shape. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come to collect my lady. And don’t start arguing with me about how marrying you will ruin my life. Losing you will destroy my life, so our only option is to come up with solutions.”
Fresh tears welled in Loni’s eyes. “There are no solutions. Do you think I would have left if there were any possible way for me to stay? You already may lose Hooter because of me. No more. I’m done. We’re finished. That’s how it has to be.”
“Hooter’s going to pull through, so I won’t lose him. But that’s beside the point. I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you, Clint. But that’s beside the point. I can’t turn your life upside down, especially not right now, when you’re establishing a relationship with Trevor. Can you imagine how frightened he’d be of a swarm of reporters shouting questions and flashing lights in his eyes? What if he’d been in the arena this morning? It might have been him who got hurt.”
“First of all, Trevor is a senator’s son. He’s used to reporters and lights. Second, there’ll be no more arena ambushes. I have a plan already in execution that will put a stop to that. But, as you said, that’s beside the point. You and I are a team. You have no right to make life-altering decisions without talking them over with me first. What did you think, that I’d just say, ‘Oh, well, she’s gone’?” He stepped even closer and planted his hands on his hips. “I’m going to start this conversation with a disclaimer. Until recently my dad had been a widower since I was seven years old. None of my brothers is married, either. So the only husband I’ve seen in action is Tucker, Sammy’s husband, and he’s new on the job. I don’t have much point of reference, so I’m not real sure if I should yell, turn you over my knee, or kiss you senseless. I may make some mistakes as we muddle our way toward a solution. I may offend your dignity. I may even piss you off. But we’re gonna get this ironed out, and if you ever hare off again with some misguided notion that you’re doing me a favor, you won’t be able to sit down for a week. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
Morning Light Page 32
