The climb up the curving mountain roads was almost hypnotizing, and Hallie dozed off a couple of times, lulled by the warmth of the cab, the scent and substance of Chance, beside her, the fact that her children, for the moment at least, were as safe as they could possibly be. Anyone trying to hurt them would have to get past her, and past Chance.
She was surprised and, at the same time, not surprised, when they took the turn-off to Chance’s place, instead of Jessie’s.
He parked the truck in front of the house, gathered one sleepy child in each arm, and started up the steps. Hallie followed with the cashbox, now scratched and dirty. About ten hours had passed since she’d dropped Jessie off at the airport, but it seemed like ten years.
Chance showed her to a guest room on the first floor, with an adjoining bathroom, and went back to the truck for the suit-case and box while she undressed her daughters, put them in T-shirts provided by their host, and tucked them into the large bed. For tonight, the usual brush-floss-story-prayer routine would be set aside.
Kiera and Kiley went right to sleep, to Hallie’s relief. She went wearily out into the main part of the house, looking for Chance.
There was a double fireplace, opening onto the kitchen on one side, and the dining room on the other, and he’d gotten a good blaze going. He was making coffee when Hallie joined him. She’d set the cashbox in the center of the table earlier, and it was right where she’d left it, evidently undisturbed.
“I wasn’t expecting you to follow us,” she said.
Chance didn’t turn around. He’d poured water into the coffeemaker; now, he set the carafe in place and pushed a button. “I don’t imagine you were,” he said. She could tell precisely nothing by his voice.
“Why did you do it?” She put the question cautiously. Softly.
“I told you,” he said, turning around at last, leaning back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” The crimson light of the fire danced over his form and features, lending him the aspect of a warrior, resigned to battle.
She drew the cashbox close, fished the little key out of her pocket, still tagged with Lou’s cryptic “Virgin Mary” notation, and fitted it into the lock. It turned with a snap. She laid the lid back, and took out some of the pictures, the documents, the maps.
Lou had died for this stuff, she was sure of it. Tears filled her eyes, and one slipped down her right cheek. She didn’t try to brush it away.
Chance took a bottle of Jack Daniels from a cupboard and set it on the table. The whiskey was in easy reach, but he’d taken care not to invade her space. He brought cups next, and a sugar bowl. By the time he’d done that, there was enough coffee in the carafe to pour them both a dose of badly needed caffeine. He replaced the carafe, after filling both mugs, then sat down across from her.
“Do we talk,” he asked, with a sort of taut humor in his voice, “or stare at each other?”
“Might as well talk,” Hallie said.
Chance chuckled. “Damn,” he teased. “I was looking forward to staring.”
She leveled a look at him and launched into her story, starting with her conversation with Charlie Long at Lou’s wake, moving on to her explorations at her stepfather’s house, and Joel’s arrival. His demand that she give him the box, her refusal and flight in the old truck, which had later died, two miles outside of Primrose Creek, Nevada.
When she fell silent, after talking for some fifteen minutes or so, Chance took the lid off the Jack Daniels and poured a splash into her cup, then his own. He topped them off with fresh coffee, and sat down again.
“So,” he said, after a while, “you weren’t headed for Primrose Creek specifically.”
She shook her head. “I was just running. We’d been on the road for a day and a half by then. I was so scared, I couldn’t think straight.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
She thumped one of the Polaroids with the tip of her index finger, hard. “See that man, making the drug buy? He is the police. So are a lot of the other guys. And Joel—my ex-husband—is an Assistant D.A. As you’ve probably figured out, he’s in this thing, too, way over his head, and he’s correspondingly desperate. Seems to me that my options were pretty limited.”
“You could have told me. Or Jase. Or called the FBI.”
“I didn’t know you or Jase from Adam’s best ox,” she pointed out. “For all I knew, the two of you might have put your heads together, decided I was crazy, and called Joel, or the Phoenix P.D.” She stopped, and tears burned behind her eyes again. “Dammit, I was frantic, scared out of my mind. I still am!”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Chance said, with a certainty that soothed her a little. “And I can see that you’re too worn out to have this conversation tonight. Hell, so am I. Get some sleep, Hallie.” He studied her across the table, and she wondered, oddly, what it would be like to sit here in this warm kitchen every night, to cook here and to dream by the fire.
She bit the nail of her right index finger. “Thanks,” she said.
He stood, put the Jack Daniels back into the cupboard, set their cups in the sink. “See you in the morning,” he said.
So he didn’t expect her to share his bed. It was both a relief and a disappointment. She pushed back her chair, got to her feet, started putting the papers and pictures back into the cashbox.
“One thing,” Chance said, his voice low.
She stopped, looked up at him. Here it comes, she thought.
“Don’t try to take off again. Those kids have been jerked around enough.”
He might as well have slapped her. “I can take care of my own children,” she informed him.
He glared at her. “Right,” he scoffed. “Waking up to find themselves in a graveyard in the middle of the night will be one of their fondest childhood memories, I’m sure.”
Tears stung her eyes. “That was a rotten thing to say.”
He sighed. “Get some sleep, Hallie. You’re on the edge, and so am I. This is no time to have a sensible conversation.”
She hesitated, wanting to defend herself, wanting to fight, wanting somehow to win his approval. She didn’t have the energy for any of those things.
“Good night,” she snapped.
“Sweet dreams,” he replied, his voice flat.
Hallie was amazed to find herself in Chance’s house, when she awakened late the next morning, alone in the bed she’d shared with her daughters, and not a couple of hundred miles down the highway, aboard a Greyhound bus. Ever since she fled Phoenix, she’d been on emotional red-alert. Even though she’d found a house at Primrose Creek, and a job, temporary arrangements, both, she’d been poised to flee every moment of every day. She was so tired. She sat up, glanced at the window. Though there was plenty of daylight, a soft snow was falling, the flakes fat and graceful. A light knock sounded at the closed door.
“It’s Chance,” he said, before she could ask who was there.
“Come in,” she said, against her better judgment.
He brought coffee, looked beyond excellent in his worn jeans and denim shirt. Sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“Where are the girls?” Hallie asked.
He smiled. “In my study, watching Nickelodeon,” he answered. “They’re fine, Hallie. They’ve had breakfast, and Smoke and Magic are keeping them company.”
She reached for the coffee with one hand, pulled the blankets up to her chin with the other. Her eyes never left his face. “Now what?” she asked, as she had the night before.
“You get showered and dressed and eat something, and then you tell Jase what you told me. He’ll take it from there.”
“He’s here?” Hallie swallowed. Jase was an honest cop, she knew that. Most of them were. That didn’t mean his buttons couldn’t be pushed, especially by other cops. He would call the Phoenix P.D., and maybe the D.A., if he hadn’t done that already.
Chance took her hand, squeezed it. “He’s on our side,” he said
.
It struck her that he’d said the word “our” when he might have said “your,” but she didn’t put too much stock in that. She couldn’t afford to trust Chance completely, even now. There was simply too much hanging in the balance.
He smoothed her hair back from her face with one hand, and the tender ordinariness of the motion splintered her heart. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he told her.
“I wish I had your confidence,” she replied.
He left her then, and she took her shower, put on clean jeans and a sweatshirt from the suitcase, ventured out into the kitchen. Jase was seated at the table, while Chance put the finishing touches on Hallie’s breakfast.
She was surprised to find that she was hungry, and the two men allowed her to consume her poached eggs, toast and coffee without prodding her for information. When she was finished, Chance handed her a fresh cup of coffee and took her plate away. Then he brought the cashbox down from the fireplace mantel.
Jase looked at her pointedly, through with waiting.
She launched in, drawing the box close, lifting the lid. “A few weeks ago,” she said, “My stepfather was murdered.”
Chance said nothing; he’d known that much. Jase leaned in, listening hard, his coffee forgotten and growing cold.
Hallie blinked back tears of grief. “Lou was a retired cop. A good one. During his career, he won every citation the department had to offer.”
Chance reached out, took her hand, and she was grateful for the strength he imparted. “Go on,” he said.
“About six months ago, judging by the dates on some of those documents,” she went on, nodding toward the box, “he started some kind of undercover investigation, obviously not sanctioned by the police department. He stumbled onto something, Lou did, and he changed, got real edgy and secretive. I was worried, and asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me.” She lowered her head, ashamed. “I was so caught up in my own life, my children and my business, that I didn’t press him any further. He might be alive today if I had.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, remembering. “Then—” Her voice fell away. She took a sip of coffee before going on. “Then he was killed. It was . . . terrible. The police—and my ex-husband—said it was random, a fumbled burglary, but I knew right away that it was more, and so did Charlie Long, a friend of his.”
She went on slowly, relating the story as carefully, as thoroughly, as she could. Chance reached out, once or twice, stroked her hair, touched her hand, silently encouraging her to go on. It was like laying down a crushing burden; whatever happened after this, at least she wouldn’t have to carry that load any farther.
Jase was all business. “Who was behind the operation?”
Chance tossed him an irritated glance, as if to say, give her time, but he didn’t speak.
“I’m getting to that,” Hallie said. She’d rehearsed the thing in her mind, over and over, during her shower, and she knew she had to tread carefully, make sure she left nothing out. “Cops,” she said, and shoved the box toward him. “Some of them high-ranking. And my ex-husband, Joel Royer. He works for the D.A.’s office, in Phoenix.”
Chance held her hand, stroking her knuckles with the pad of one thumb.
“A few days ago, I got up the nerve to check the news from Phoenix, on the Internet,” she said. Tears slipped down her cheeks; she dashed at them with the back of her free hand. “They killed Charlie Long, like they did Lou. Only this time, they made it look like suicide.”
Jase had been taking notes on a small pad of paper. “How do you know it wasn’t suicide?”
“I don’t think Charlie was the type. He wanted to bring these guys down, and see them pay for what they did to Lou. He wouldn’t have checked out before the game was over.”
Jase reached for the cashbox, and it was all Hallie could do not to grab it, jerk it back. He examined the contents carefully, and only then did Hallie notice the computer disk hidden at the bottom. Jase tucked it into his pocket without comment and went back to taking notes.
Chance’s chair creaked as he leaned back, meanwhile, digesting all she’d said. Weighing it.
Jase was obviously not one to ruminate. He didn’t even look up. “Can I use your phone, Chance? The sooner the feds are brought into this, the better.”
Chance stood, crossed the room to a counter, came back with the receiver of a cordless telephone, all without saying a word.
Jase made his call with admirable dispatch, identifying himself to the agent who answered, giving a brief rundown of the situation. He listened, nodded, told the person on the other end of the line how to find Chance’s place. At least, Hallie thought, he hadn’t directed the FBI to the county jail, where he might have put her for safekeeping.
“If you had any part in this,” Jase told her, once he’d hung up, “you’d better tell me right now.”
She glared at him. “If I were one of them, what would I be doing in Primrose Creek?”
“Hiding out, maybe,” Jase said, unruffled. “If you ripped them off, say, and threatened to expose them, they’d come after you.”
“I knew you’d think that!” Hallie snapped back, making an effort to keep her voice down, because of the girls. “That’s why I didn’t come to you in the first place!”
“Take it easy,” Chance told her. He was glowering at Jase. “Dammit, Jase,” he said, “she’s not involved, and you know it.”
“I have to make sure,” Jase said.
“Right now, I’m more concerned about keeping Hallie and the kids safe from these guys,” Chance retorted, his jaws tight at the hinges.
Jase sighed. “You’ve got a point there,” he agreed. His gaze rested solemnly on Hallie’s face. “The FBI might want to put you and the twins in a safe house someplace, until all the dust settles.”
“Hallie’s staying right here with me,” Chance said.
“What about the kids?” Jase asked, with a glance down at the pictures. “Can you protect them, too? There’s only one of you, Chance. Looks like there might be a whole shitload of these guys.”
“Them, too,” Chance said stubbornly.
Jase’s expression softened a little when he looked at Hallie again. “You want your children with you, I presume?” he asked.
Hallie’s eyes were wet with tears. “Yes!” she cried.
Jase sighed, scratched the back of his head. “Okay by me,” he said, “but keep in mind, the FBI might have a whole other plan.”
“I’m not the criminal here,” Hallie pointed out.
“That remains to be seen,” Jase replied, rising to his feet. He fixed his gaze on Chance. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. He took the cashbox, and Hallie winced, though she didn’t try to stop him.
“What about Jessie’s Jeep?” Chance asked, standing as well. “We left it behind in the graveyard.”
“Give me the keys,” Jase said. “I’ll send somebody to pick it up.”
“Thanks,” Chance said, standing next to Hallie’s chair, resting one hand on her shoulder.
Jase offered a ghost of a smile. “I hope all this works out,” he said quietly, and then he was gone, letting himself out the back door.
“I need to see my children,” Hallie said, and stood.
Chance pointed her toward his study, and she set out. Away from the kitchen, and the fireplace, and Chance, the house felt colder, and she was shivering a little by the time she found the girls. They were sharing a bean-bag chair, absorbed in a rerun of My Favorite Martian.
Hallie smiled, in spite of everything, and sat down cross-legged between her children and the TV.
“Hey,” she said.
They looked at her warily, no doubt bracing themselves for some new development.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Kiera said.
“Me, neither,” Kiley agreed, jutting out her lower lip.
“We’re staying right here, for the time being,” she said.
“Then what?” Kiley asked, stealing a glance at the freneti
c activity on the TV screen. Hallie reached for the remote, lying nearby, and pushed the power button.
“We need to talk,” she said. Then she held out her arms. “Come here.”
Somewhat grudgingly, the twins complied, snuggling from either side, like puppies.
Hallie fiddled with a lock of Kiera’s hair, held Kiley close against her side.
“I’m sorry if you were scared last night,” she said. “When we went to the graveyard, I mean.”
“Why did we go there, Mommy?” Kiera asked. “It was spooky!”
Hallie kissed the top of Kiera’s head, then Kiley’s, and held them even closer. “I had hidden something there, after we left Phoenix, and I needed to get it back.”
“That was a weird place to hide something,” Kiley said.
Hallie laughed. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “Let’s just say it made sense at the time.”
“Are we going to stay here now, for always, with Chance?” This was Kiera.
The question lodged in Hallie’s heart like an arrow. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think so. We’re just visiting here, until Mommy can solve some problems and make some plans.”
“I’d rather stay here,” Kiley insisted.
So would I, Hallie thought. “Things just aren’t that simple, honey,” she said.
“This is about Daddy, isn’t it?” Kiera said, out of the blue.
Hallie swallowed, straightened her spine, held her children a little closer. “Yes, baby,” she said. “I’m afraid so.”
“Is he in trouble?” Kiley wanted to know.
“Yes,” Hallie said. “He made a bad mistake.”
“Is he going to jail?”
By then, Hallie was wondering if the twins had overheard some of her conversation with Jase and Chance, in the kitchen. “I think so,” she said, resigned. “I’m so sorry.”
They clung to her, even closer than before, silent in their misery.
She kissed them again, atop their heads, rocked them a little, the way she had when they were smaller, humming softly.
“You won’t leave us, will you, Mommy?” Kiera asked, after a long time.
The Last Chance Cafe Page 21
