The Runaway Bride

by Adrianne Lee

  But the first thing Jake did in the morning was call Riverdell. At the grogginess in Mel Van Sheets’s voice, Jake said, “Sorry to call you so early.”

  “No problem, Jake.”

  The doctor’s baritone rumbled into his ear like water crashing through a tin pipe.

  “Is Ruthanne worse?”

  “About the same, I’d say. But she is one of two reasons I’m calling.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m taking her out of Sunshine Vista Estates and moving her into my house.” He explained the events of the day before as they pertained to his decision. “But I haven’t a clue how to find a good home health-care agency.”

  Mel rattled off some suggestions, pausing while Jake jotted them down. Then, sounding more awake, the frogginess gone from his voice, he said, “Now, what’s that second thing, son?”

  “This one’s more touchy, Doc. It will require your complete discretion.”

  “Say, now, I reckon we both know I can keep a secret or two. So, what’s up, son? I confess you’ve whetted my appetite.”

  Jake could almost see Mel stroking his thin, gray mustache. Or had it silvered by now? He leaned back in his desk chair and reached for his coffee. “Have you had any John Does during the past twelve months?”

  Mel Van Sheets had been the county doctor and medical examiner in and around Riverdell since before Jake was born. He’d never married, but treated the whole town as though he were its patriarchal head: Father Wisdom, Daddy Comfort—the Know-all, Cure-all Wizard of Riverdell.

  Not a giant, as that title implied, but a man of average height and stocky build, with kind blue eyes and medium-brown hair, now turned completely gray.

  “A John Doe, huh?” The doctor cleared his throat. “That’s an odd question from someone no longer on the RPD. You thinking of ditching that bodyguard business of yours and coming back home? Somebody’s gotta fill Ralph Russell’s shoes when he retires next month and you’d do the office proud.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not moving back to Riverdell any time soon.”

  “That’s a pity. You’re missed around here.”

  “Thanks. So, what about the J.D.s? Anything you can tell me?”

  “I’ve had three, as a matter of fact. One found beside the tracks east of town, one at the dump and one near Handley’s farm. All badly decomposed by the time I got my hands in them.”

  “But you did the usual, right?”

  “Autopsies R me,” he joked, chuckling.

  “Any of them murdered?” Jake held his breath.

  “Well, now, like I said, wasn’t much left but bones when they were found, but I wrote up two of them as suspicious. One had a smashed skull. But whether or not he was murdered would be hard to prove. Drifters meet with a wide manner of woes.”

  “I see.”

  “So, spill. Why is a bodyguard in Arizona so curious about the deaths of three vagrants in eastern Washington?”

  Jake hesitated. What he was about to say would likely surprise this good-spirited old man. “I have reason to believe one of them might be Cullen Crocker.”

  “What!” Mel shouted. He’d delivered nearly every citizen in Riverdell and took personal offense whenever God called one of them home without first consulting him. “But he and Laura—Lordy, son, I’m sorry, that was insensitive as hell. But—”

  “It’s okay, Doc. I felt the same way as you the first time I faced this gruesome possibility. But I ran into Laura this week and she definitely did not leave Riverdell with Cullen.”

  “But the note…?”

  “Forged.” Jake could see he was going to have to offer Mel a little more information in order to circumvent his disbelief. “No one in the Crocker family has heard from Cullen for a year.”

  “A whole year?” Mel whistled. “Well, now, that’s plain old mystifyin’. Why wasn’t I told? I usually know all the gossip in town before it hits the grapevine, but this is a new one on me. His ma was in last week, but not a peep out of her about Cullen.”

  Jake suspected Cullen’s mother had had enough speculation, sympathy and pity thrust on her after the wedding fiasco to last her a lifetime. He knew he had.

  At length, Mel said, “If what you’re saying is true, then we could be looking at murder.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t take offense, son, but other than you, why would anyone want to kill that nice young man?”

  “That’s a long, nasty little story that I’d prefer to tell you some other time.”

  “All right, but can you tell me why you’re coming to me instead of Chief Russell?”

  Jake’s gut clenched. Ralph Russell wielded a power in Riverdell that lent itself to both sides of the law. As far as he knew, Ralph had always landed on the honest side. But he had access to paperwork that could turn a murder into an accident, he’d been Murphy Whittaker’s best friend, he would have known about the face cream and Laura had talked to him the day of the wedding. Ralph was one of the original investors in New Again. All of which gave him motive, means and opportunity.

  Jake couldn’t rule him out as a suspect, or put Laura in further jeopardy by alerting Ralph to any investigation he, Jake, initiated. But he wouldn’t smear his good name without proof. “I’ve got my reasons, which I’d rather not go into today. But I’ll explain it all to you once the matter is cleared up. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Mel paused, then said, “Would this have anything to do with your partners visiting Chief Russell?”

  The question startled Jake. When had Don and Susan been to Riverdell? “When was that, Doc?”

  “Last night.”

  “Impossible. Susan and Don are in Las Vegas.”

  “Well, then my eyesight is going downhill faster than tumbling rock. Could have sworn I saw them going into Ralph’s house around suppertime yesterday. Must of been their clones, then.” Doc chuckled again.

  But Jake didn’t find any humor in this. What the hell were Susan and Don doing in Riverdell? Why had they lied about going to Vegas? His nerves jangled at the possibilities. The awful, ugly implications. “Look, Doc, don’t mention this phone call to anyone, no matter who. And please keep secret, too, what you’re doing on my behalf.”

  “Sure. Guess I’ll need to finagle a copy of Cullen’s dental records from Peterson.”

  “And if there’s no match, this call never happened, okay?”

  “Sure. But what if there is a match?”

  Jake had no doubt there would be. “I guess that depends on whether or not the match is your J.D. with the smashed skull.”

  LAURA STOOD in the doorway, watching the morning sun play across Jake’s golden hair as he cradled the telephone. She wanted to sear this image into her brain to carry with her through the treacherous days ahead.

  She’d decided not to tell him, but she was leaving for Riverdell today. He would worry and probably insist she wait until he could come with her. But her urgency to locate the bottles of Venus Masque grew by the minute, as though she were running out of time. Her skin prickled at the possibility. She couldn’t put it off. Not even for Ruthanne.

  And Jake couldn’t put Ruthanne’s needs off. Not even for her.

  She stepped into the office, catching his attention and his wide smile. Her heart tripped warmly and she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at him. “Your mom is still asleep. Maybe we should check for the break-in before she awakens.”

  It didn’t take them long to find what they sought. Jake squatted, gripping the side door into the garage in both hands, peering at the keyhole. “Someone jimmied their way in here, all right. But if we weren’t looking, we wouldn’t have noticed.”

  Laura shivered at the idea that he had actually been in the house. “Why bother with the brakes at all? Wouldn’t murdering us in our beds have been simpler?”

  “Yes and no.” Jake shrugged, rising to his full height. “More risky with the two of us here. He or she wouldn’t know the layout of the house.”

  “Why not
? House plans are easy enough to get hold of.”

  “You watch too much TV.” He shut the door and double-bolted it. “But if you were right, then your pursuer would have had to plan this for some time. I don’t think I was in the mix until you came here after Sunny Devlin’s death. I think he or she followed me home from the hospital.”

  Laura nodded. That made more sense. “But how could anyone trust we’d go off the bluff?”

  “Chances were better than average.” Jake started past Rubia, who hogged the garage like a whale in a swimming pool, and into the laundry room. “And even if we hadn’t died—we’d be more accessible to attack laid up in a hospital bed.”

  A chill settled at the base of Laura’s spine. She hurried after him. “But the police would have found out the brake line was cut.”

  “Not if the Cherokee was smashed enough.”

  A vision of the sheer drop-offs along the bluff filled Laura’s mind. “And it would have been.”

  Jake doused the garage light and pulled the door shut behind them. “Besides, I think he or she hoped people would think I killed us both in a jealous rage.”

  “Why?” But she knew why. “The note?”

  He nodded. “The whole of Riverdell seems to know about it. And most would probably claim I had it in me to do just that.”

  “But you don’t.”

  He winced and she realized she had no idea how he’d reacted when he’d read that vile note. Whatever had happened, he’d left Riverdell for good immediately after. With every fiber of her being, she longed to slip into Jake’s arms, to annul the hurt and humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of an evil killer. But she dared not even touch him.

  He needed her to be strong, to resist her selfish desires. She wouldn’t risk hurting him again. Not even to assure him that they would win, because she knew they’d have to be faster and smarter than her pursuer. And right now, he was two steps ahead of them.

  “Are you going to talk to the police about the brakes and the break-in?”

  “I’ll call a friend on the force and have him come by when he’s off duty. I don’t want Mom upset, but we need this on the record.” He shut the door and locked it. “I’ve got to make some phone calls.”

  “I’ll check on your mom, then.”

  Ruthanne was awake and dressed when Laura entered the room. Her hair was damp and she was sitting on the bed, slipping her feet into flats that matched the predominate turquoise of her sweat suit. Laura braced for a fresh onslaught of contempt and suspicion. But Ruthanne’s face lit with warmth as though she’d just spied a beloved friend. “Laura, dear, how nice. I was hoping I’d know someone here.”

  Laura’s heart caught. Where did she think she was? “Ruthanne, this is Jake’s house. This is his bedroom.”

  “Well, I know that. Didn’t I bring a change of clothes? A gal likes fresh undies every day, you know.”

  Laura bit back a smile. “I don’t think you planned on spending the night.”

  “Oh, of course. I remember now.”

  But she didn’t look as though she did.

  She said, “It’s a good thing J.J. and you are getting married soon. This house needs a woman’s touch. Why, he hasn’t gotten the mirrors hung in the bathroom, and these windows could sure use some nice curtains. Can’t leave that sort of thing to the menfolk.”

  Laura didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed at Ruthanne’s confusion over time and place. But she was grateful the hostility had vanished. So, did it really matter that she didn’t recall Jake hadn’t built this house until after the aborted wedding?

  Ruthanne made a face. “I took a shower, but I can’t fix my hair without a mirror. Don’t know how he shaves. Everybody needs mirrors. Do you suppose you could help me with my hair?”

  “Of course.” Laura plucked her brush from her purse and crossed to Ruthanne. Gently she swept the bristles through the damp curls, feeling like a mother to the woman who’d always been like a mother to her. The sadness in her heart deepened.

  “That feels good.” Ruthanne sighed, but she rubbed her hands together and grimaced. “Old age is the pits. Turns a pond into a pile of sand. J.J. hasn’t got any hand lotion and my skin is as dry as that desert outside those windows.”

  “I think I have some in my purse.” Laura finished Ruthanne’s hair, then gave her a nod of approval, assuring the older woman that she looked fine now.

  A forgotten memory surfaced and arrested Laura’s hunt for the hand lotion. A few years ago, Ruthanne had offered her much the same approval of her appearance—on prom night. Although it hadn’t started out that way.

  Aunt May had insisted on making Laura’s dress and fixing her hair. She’d beamed with pride at the finished product. Laura hadn’t wanted to hurt her aunt’s feelings, but the gaily colored, multiruffled dress would have better suited a clown than the football captain’s date. A disastrous home perm added insult to injury.

  She’d been in tears before Jake had driven her a block. Instead of continuing on to the high school, he’d taken her to his house. Ruthanne’s sympathy had opened the floodgates of her tears. But this woman had saved the night. She loaned Laura a simple black dress and brushed her hair into a chic French roll. Jake’s eyes had bugged out at the transformation.

  Laura grinned now, remembering. “Let’s see if I can find that hand lotion.”

  “Oh.” Ruthanne sighed. “I hope it’s some of that good stuff you sent me last time.”

  Laura froze. Her hand in her purse still gripped the hairbrush. The hard plastic handle bit into her palm. Had she heard what she thought she’d heard? Her breath snagged. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, the stuff in the little green bottle.”

  Uncle Murphy’s Venus Masque had been in little green plastic bottles. Laura’s heart thunked. Her pulse stumbled, then began racing. “Where is that hand lotion, Ruthanne?”

  “Where? I thought you had some.”

  No! Don’t let her forget. Not now. Laura took a steadying breath. Somehow she found the small tube of Vaseline Intensive Care she carried in her purse. She offered it to Ruthanne, whose expression fell when she saw that it wasn’t the “good stuff.”

  “Sorry, this is all I have with me.” Laura popped the lid and squeezed a little of the lotion into the other woman’s upturned palm. “Ruthanne, do you have some of the hand lotion I sent you?”

  She glanced up, but kept rubbing her hands together. “Not here.”

  “Where?”

  “Oh.” She nodded, seeming to understand the “where” question this time. “In my nightstand. But I’m running out. I was hoping you’d bring me more.”

  Laura’s ribs seemed to contract like a fist around her chest. “Your nightstand at Sunshine Vista Estates?”

  “Yes. Next to the bed. In the top drawer.” Ruthanne’s eyes were narrowed and she spoke the words slowly, pointedly, as though Laura didn’t comprehend the concept of a nightstand. “In the little green bottle.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laura hurried to Jake’s office. He leaned on his desk, phone to his ear, a lock of hair across his forehead, papers spread around him as though he’d been taking copious notes. With a grim expression he cradled the phone, then glanced up, spotting her in the doorway.

  He blinked, distress flitting through his teal eyes. As though she’d asked him for an explanation, he said, “The remodeling is going to take longer than I thought. And none of the home health-care agencies can send anyone until tomorrow.”

  “She’s remembered!” Laura shouted.

  He frowned, total confusion wiping the dour expression from his face. “What?”

  Laura forced herself to speak slowly. “Your mother has some of Uncle Murphy’s cream in her nightstand at Sunshine Vista Estates.”

  His eyes grew huge and he lurched out of his chair. “Are you sure?”

  She gripped the door frame on both sides, the oak solid, fortifying. “I won’t be sure until I see it for myself. Can we
go now?”

  “Well, sure, but I can’t leave Mom alone.”

  “Can’t she come with us? I know she’d like a change of clothing. We could pack her things and start the paperwork to get her moved out of there.” Anticipation motored through Laura like cars around a racetrack, fast, careering, one emotion pulling ahead, then another. For the first time since this deadly contest began, winning seemed guaranteed. If they could avoid unforeseen mishaps. Could they? “Besides, if Ruthanne stashed The Venus Masque somewhere other than the nightstand…”

  “Okay, I already called Mrs. Thatcher and told her I’d be there sometime today. Might as well be this morning. Have to pick up the Cherokee now anyway. Hector has the brake line replaced.”

  A shiver went through Laura. She’d been so excited about the face cream she’d momentarily forgotten the killer lurked nearby. Had he planned another deadly surprise for them? The likelihood made her blood run cold. She had to get away from Jake and Ruthanne. Today. It was her only hope of keeping them safe.

  “WHEN DID YOU GET this snazzy car?” Ruthanne exclaimed over Rubia. “It’s very pretty, but can’t be much good for catching criminals.”

  Jake frowned. Today his mom thought he was still a cop. On so many levels she seemed her old self, but she wasn’t. Would never be again. She glanced around from her perch on the wide bench seat between Laura and him.

  He reached for the key. “This car belongs to my mechanic, Mom. We’re going to pick up my wagon on the way to Sunshine Vista.”

  He started the engine and Ruthanne let out a squeal. “Ooh, it’s noisy.”

  Precisely the reason, Jake mused, that he wanted the use of his own wheels. The less attention the group attracted, the better. Laura was edgy enough already. So much so, he’d decided not to mention the John Doe in Riverdell with the smashed skull…until after Mel Van Sheets ran his tests.

  He backed the car out of the garage and lowered the door. Not wanting to upset Laura further didn’t explain why he hadn’t told her about Doc’s seeing Don and Susan at Chief Russell’s house. But Jake had confirmed it only a moment before Laura showed up at the office shouting her news about the face cream.