The Runaway Bride

by Adrianne Lee

  He pivoted to find Travis right behind him, eyeing his actions with suspicion. “Have you heard from Laura and Cullen? Is that why you called the other night?”

  Jake pushed the door shut with his heel. Damn. Laura must have come inside. She had to be in the office or his bedroom. He prayed she’d stay there until he could get rid of these two.

  “Jake, have you heard from my brother?”

  Jake’s nerves felt as tight as newly strung barbed wire. He glanced at his mother, hoping to God that she wouldn’t mention seeing Laura yesterday. That she wouldn’t call him a liar. “No. I told you the other night that I hadn’t seen or heard from either of them. Didn’t you believe me?”

  Travis’s handsome face crumpled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just damned scared that something awful has happened to Cullen.”

  Izzy sidled up to Travis and snaked her arm around his waist. The gesture was more than friend to friend. It was intimate. Familiar. Sometime in the past year these two had gotten close. Was that the reason Travis wanted Cullen found? Did he want to tell his brother that he’d moved in on his woman while he’d been gone? Or were they after Laura?

  Izzy sighed. “I was afraid this would be a wild-goose chase. Let’s go back to our motel.”

  Travis nodded resignedly. “Okay, hon. Call the cab.”

  LAURA PRESSED HER BODY to the wall just inside Jake’s office. Her heart thudded against her chest. She held her breath. A minute passed. Then another. No footsteps sounded in the hall. She blew out air and shoved away from the wall, shaking the tension from her arms.

  Moonlight filtered through the windows, bathing the room in a dusky light. She crept over to Jake’s desk, sank into his thick leather chair and stared at the telephone.

  She wanted to call the police.

  But she didn’t want to have to spend hours explaining why she’d summoned them, if it wasn’t necessary. The thought that that might somehow put the Malibu police onto her chilled the blood in her veins. Until she and Jake found the face cream, she had no proof that any of her claims were true. She could be slapped into jail on a first-degree-murder charge. Or two.

  But what were Travis and Izzy doing here? Did they suspect from the phone call the other night that Jake had a line on Cullen and her? Had they come looking for information about Cullen? Or were they looking for her?

  The threads of fear and confusion that tangled inside Laura now twined with pity for them all. Izzy had been in love with Cullen Crocker for years. Her heart must also have been broken by that awful, lying note. Unless…

  Unless Izzy was behind this.

  Laura could barely stomach the notion. But she couldn’t dismiss it. Izzy had motive, means and opportunity. Laura wanted to scream. She hated not knowing. Hated suspecting everyone she’d once trusted. Hated wondering whether Izzy and Travis were friends or foes.

  But the fact that they were in Jake’s house, with his missing mother, didn’t bode well for their innocence. And Laura would not risk Jake’s and Ruthanne’s lives on speculation. She reached for the phone.

  There was no dial tone. Fear crashed in on her. Had someone cut the lines?

  “Hello?”

  A man’s voice leaped out of the receiver and landed against her ear like a gunshot. Laura flinched so hard she dropped the phone. The line wasn’t dead. Someone had called at the same time she’d picked up the phone. Shaking, she retrieved the phone and gathered her breath, but before she could answer, the voice came again.

  “That you, Jake-man?”

  “No, it’s Laura.”

  “Laura?” A second voice sounded in her ear. This time it was Izzy’s.

  Laura’s heart dropped to her toes, dragging her stomach along for the ride.

  Izzy had to be on the extension in the kitchen.

  Panicked, Laura disconnected too quickly to hear Hector ask, “Laura, you the hot tamale with Jake-man today?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake couldn’t hear what Izzy was saying, but he watched her face pale and clench. What the hell was going on? She’d wanted to call a cab for Travis and herself. That shouldn’t have caused her to look like she’d spoken with a ghost. She held the phone out to him. “Someone’s on the line. They’re asking for ‘Jake-man.’”

  Hector. Jake felt himself grow pale. He didn’t want to accept this call in front of his unwelcome guests. But he had to know about the brakes.

  He took the phone from Izzy. “Jake Wilder.”

  “Amigo, you gots the señoritas in the blender. ¿S??”

  Jake didn’t know what the hell Hector was talking about, and he hadn’t the patience to figure it out. He mumbled in the affirmative and turned away from Izzy. “What did you find?”

  “The brakes?” Hector said. “Yes. Was it what we thought?”

  “HELLO, LAURA.” Izzy flipped on the office lights. “Why are you hiding here in the dark? Afraid to face your old friends.”

  Laura gulped hard, shaking off the unreasonable fright. It wasn’t as though she were alone in the house with these people. She rose from Jake’s chair and shoved a lock of wayward hair from her forehead. “Should I be afraid of you, Izzy?”

  Izzy laughed, a throaty “Ha” that held no mirth. Her gaze was as hard and cold as green glass. “Last year at this time I wanted to scratch out your eyes. But I’ve had twelve months to get over it. How’s Cullen?”

  “More to the point—where is Cullen?” Travis stepped into the room, crossed to Izzy and laid a hand on her neck. The possessive gesture cleared up any questions Laura had about just how “over it.” Izzy was.

  Still, her spine went rigid. Where the hell was Jake when she needed him? And how exactly was she supposed to answer Travis’s and Izzy’s questions? Gee, I don’t know, but Jake and I think Cullen might be dead—that maybe you and Izzy murdered him. She hugged herself. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “And you expect us to believe that?” Izzy’s hands were on her hips.

  Laura started to defend herself, to tell Izzy she didn’t care what she believed, but it struck her suddenly that she did care. She cared right to her core. “I didn’t run off with Cullen.”

  “What—?” Travis shook his head. “Oh, please. The whole town saw the note you lef—”

  “Laura.” Jake appeared in the doorway, as tall and shining as any knight. Relief and gratitude swirled through her. He motioned for her to come to him. “Why don’t you take Mom to my room and tuck her in. She’s had a long day. I’ve got to call the police and tell them she’s been found.”

  Laura hurried to the doorway. “How is she?”

  “She seems fine, but I haven’t had a chance to question her yet.”

  Laura nodded and escaped.

  “Hey, what about my questions?” Travis released Izzy and started after Laura. He gave every appearance of a spoiled child who thought his concerns more important than any other.

  Jake blocked the doorway. “Let me call off the police and then we can talk. I’ll answer your questions and you can answer some of mine. Meanwhile, why don’t you help yourselves to another drink.”

  The standoff lasted a full minute, both men unwilling to back down.

  Izzy touched Travis’s shoulder. “It’s your call, Trav.”

  “Okay.” He retreated a step, “One more drink. Call the cab, Iz.”

  He turned back to Jake, and shook his finger. “Laura better tell us what she knows.”

  LAURA FOUND RUTHANNE sitting alone in the family room. Against the rough-hewn beams, the huge windows, the floor-to-ceiling fireplace and the oversized furnishings, she seemed smaller than she was, a lost and lonely dwarf in a giant’s castle.

  Laura wanted to run over and sweep her into a bear hug. But what if that startled her, frightened her? “Ruthanne?”

  She was surprised when the older woman’s head came up and her eyes widened with dismay.

  “Laura!”

  “Hello.”

  Ruthanne’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Does J.J. k
now you’re here?”

  “Yes.” Laura noticed Ruthanne’s gray curls were still flattened against her head, as though no one had washed her hair for a week. Could patient neglect be added to the grievances against Emily Thatcher?

  “I can’t believe he let you into his house—after you ran off with—with that other man.” She pointed to Travis as he entered the room and gathered up his glass. “His kid brother.”

  That startled everyone. Jake claimed his mother was worn out, but she seemed to know where she was, who she was and who was with her. And from the scorn in her voice when she mentioned Cullen, she even seemed to remember that Laura had left Jake at the altar.

  If Ruthanne was this coherent, would she remember what she’d done with the face cream? The possibility excited Laura. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, bring it up in front of Izzy and Travis. “Jake said I should help you get settled down for the night in his room.”

  “I’m not tired and I won’t be shuffled off to bed like some child. I’m just as curious to hear what you’ve got to say for yourself as these two are.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Fix me whatever you’re having, Isabelle. I’m as thirsty as a marathon runner.”

  Jake arrived several minutes later to find them all sitting in the family room, drinks in hand. He gave Laura a bewildered glance. “I thought you were putting her to bed.”

  Laura shrugged. “She’s not tired.”

  He eyed his mother’s drink with alarm. “What is she drinking?”

  Ruthanne bristled. “Wipe that policeman’s scowl off your face, J.J. A little whiskey and water isn’t going to kill me.”

  But Laura could see he feared it would. She rose and crossed to him. “Want me to fix you one? You look like you could use a shot of something potent.”

  “No. Not now.”

  As Laura slipped onto one of the bar stools, Jake strode to the sitting area. Once again, Izzy and Travis sat across from Ruthanne, but they were eyeing Laura with disdain at her choice of seats. Probably wondering why she was distancing herself from them. Either that, or they knew why she was.

  Jake sank down beside his mother, landing so close to her that he rustled her shiny sweat suit and caught the scent of her clothes—not the sweet, dried-outdoors smell of his childhood, not the fabric-softener smell of his own clothes, but an antiseptic, bought-by-the-gross, detergent scent. This odor defined the residents of Sunshine Vista Estates; even the perfume he got for her every few months couldn’t purge the institutional tang.

  A familiar resentment knotted his gut. Why did growing old reduce so many to commune dwellers? Snatching their individualities? Their personalities? He detested that nature could level the strong, detested that it had forced him into putting his own mother into such an establishment.

  It had seemed the best thing to do when Mel Van Sheets, her doctor in Riverdell, diagnosed the Alzheimer’s. Jake had considered having her live with him. Knew it would require twenty-four-hour care due to his work—which often took him away for weeks or months. But he’d feared she’d be too lonely—isolated as this house was. Besides, he was terrified she’d wander outside and step off the bluff.

  He couldn’t risk that. In the end he’d decided she’d like it better somewhere with arranged activities and daily access to others her age. No more. Tomorrow he would start interviewing home health-care agencies.

  “Are you zoning out on us again, Jake?” Travis’s question held impatience.

  Jake shook off his dark thoughts and glanced at Travis. He didn’t want to deal with these two people tonight.

  “J.J.” Ruthanne tugged his shirtsleeve. “What is Laura doing in your house after what she did to you?”

  The question startled Jake. He turned his full attention to his mother. Intelligence registered in her eyes. Shock rippled through him. This past year, Ruthanne’s inherent forgetfulness had grown so that it was a rare day that she had her wits about her this strongly. Hope that she could answer his questions flared inside him.

  The hell with Travis and Izzy. Right now it was more important to find out whether the person after Laura had had anything to do with his mother leaving Sunshine Vista Estates this afternoon. “Mom, who brought you here?”

  She made a face, obviously wondering why he’d switched the subject. “Well, I don’t know the man’s name.”

  “The man?”

  “The taxi driver.”

  Disbelief lifted his brows. “You came by cab?”

  She gave him a tolerant smile and patted his hand. “J.J., I’m an adult and perfectly capable of getting around on my own.”

  Before Jake could respond, Travis set his drink on the coffee table with a thunk. “What has this got to do with why Laura is in your house?”

  “Yes,” Izzy added. “Why the heck are we talking about this again? Who cares how your mother got here?”

  “I do.” Jake ground the words between his clenched teeth.

  Izzy rolled her eyes and sank back against the cushions of the sofa. Travis reached for his glass again.

  Jake gathered a calming breath. “Did you have some visitors at the complex today?”

  “Are you accusing us again of kidnapping your mother?” Izzy’s face beamed an unattractive red.

  Travis jumped right in. “We never—”

  “Shut up both of you. I didn’t invite you here and I’m barely tolerating you as it is.”

  “But you said you’d answer my questions,” Travis whined.

  “I don’t care what I said! This is more important to me!”

  “Well, I’ve got a mother, too, you know.” Travis tossed his head like a bull that was one snort away from attacking. “And she’s losing sleep wondering why her son doesn’t call.”

  “Then maybe if you’ll quit interrupting we could find out something that would help us all,” Jake retorted.

  Ruthanne ignored the melee, smiling as though recalling some pleasant memory. “There was a special event today—a craft fair with baked goods. I bought you some chocolate donuts.”

  “I heard,” Jake said, grappling with his temper.

  She glanced at the couple across from her. “J.J.’s awfully fond of chocolate donuts.”

  Jake lost the struggle with his patience. Someone had tried to kill Laura and him earlier today. That same someone might well have gone after his mother as a warning to them. Or as a lesson in how vulnerable she was. “I don’t want to talk about donuts.”

  Ruthanne patted his hand again. “They’re in the kitchen, J.J.”

  Jake tried gently to move her back onto the subject. “Then you didn’t have any visitors?”

  She frowned, her scruffy brows bobbing down, then immediately arching. “Oh, you know, now that you mention it, I believe I did.”

  “Who?” Jake said quicker than he’d meant. He knew he should proceed slowly, but he feared if he didn’t get the question answered immediately his mother’s mental clarity would snap and the information would slip into that never-never land she occupied most days lately. “Who were they?”

  “They?” she said vaguely.

  “You do!” Izzy yipped. “You think it was us!”

  “I think we’ve talked this visitor of your mother’s to death,” Travis said, his tone clipped with ire. “Could we, please, move on to Cullen?”

  “I’m warning you two for the last time.” Jake glared at them both, his nerves as raw as open wounds. “Keep quiet or you can wait for your cab outside.”

  He gazed at his mother and his nerves tightened. She could be seconds away from checking out on him. It usually happened without warning. “Mom, do you recall the man and woman who came to see you at the senior complex today?”

  He heard Izzy draw a sharp breath and tossed her a dark scowl. She blinked and clamped her lips shut, but fury rose from her like a bad smell.

  “Man and woman?” Ruthanne repeated, her tone as vague as the dullness that was creeping through her eyes. “Well, now, I don’t think there was a woman…was there?”
<
br />   Jake’s heart skipped anxiously. “A man, then?”

  Travis set his glass down again. “Can’t this wait? Our taxi will be here soon and—”

  Jake rounded on him, fury surging through his veins. Travis might hold his own in a brawl with Jake, but they both knew he’d never win. He closed his mouth, but anger mottled his handsome face.

  Ruthanne took a big swallow from her glass. “The man, oh, sure…a friend of yours, JJ.”

  Friend? Someone she knew? Hope and fear collided inside Jake. If the man was someone his mother knew, then it could very well be Laura’s pursuer. “What friend of mine?”

  “You know.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, what’s his name?”

  Jake plowed a hand through his hair. He glared at the glass she held. Was it her illness or the alcohol that was muddling her thoughts? He reined in the urge to yank the drink from her and toss the contents in the sink. “You’ll have to give me a hint, Mom.”

  “Oh, darn it all.” She clicked her tongue and her expression darkened, as though she hated herself for not being able to tell him this simple thing. “I can’t remember his name…and I was so sure I knew it.”

  Jake recognized the signs of her illness, edginess and agitation, in the trembling of her hands, the tenseness of her posture. He gathered her free hand in both of his. “Forget his name for now. Maybe you could tell me, instead, what he looked like.”

  This seemed to calm her. She nodded and grew thoughtful. “Hmm. Well, I’m not positive, mind, but I think he looked, well…maybe like him.”

  She pointed at Travis.

  “Cullen?” Izzy said, scooting close to the edge of the sofa.

  “Was it?” Travis barked.

  Jake scowled at him again. This time Travis ignored him. “Was it my brother?”

  Total dismay controlled Ruthanne’s features. She seemed not to have heard any of their questions. She blinked five times, then she shook herself and steadied her gaze on Izzy. “On second thought, maybe he looked like her.”