by Mary McBride
“You ready, babe?” he asked.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Molly? You okay?” When Eileen started laughing, Dan turned to her. “What’s so funny? What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Eileen said, still laughing as she lifted on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “Take good care, Danny. Molly, you come back and see us again, you hear?”
Molly found her voice in time to say, “I’d love to. Thanks again, Eileen,” as the woman ascended the steps on her way back into the house.
“What was that all about?” Dan asked.
“Just girl talk,” she said.
He took a step back, giving her an appreciative once-over, and it suddenly dawned on Molly that Dan had never seen her in a suit, either.
“Not bad, Professor,” he said.
Molly laughed. “Thank you, Deputy. You’re no slouch, yourself.”
Then his smile kind of flattened out as he opened the car door for her. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Their plane was more or less on time, and, thank God, the ride more or less uneventful. Molly slept most of the way with her head on Dan’s shoulder.
She woke briefly, long enough to lift her big baby blues to his face and whisper, “I missed you last night.” Five words that sent him into an immediate, downhearted funk that he wasn’t able to dismiss as quickly as he wished.
This was a first. He was head over heels in love and she was just in it for great sex. That was what she’d said, after all. Well, hell. He told himself he ought to appreciate her honesty if not her healthy regard for one of his favorite pastimes. Only it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
He let his eyes drift closed, tried to blank out his mind, ease all the knots in his body. When this was over, he’d make her see they had a lot more going for them than setting fire to mattresses. She’d have to see that. Wouldn’t she?
When this was over. When he got her safely through it. And he was going to get her safely through it. God. Please.
Molly was scrunched on the floor of the back seat of the car that picked them up at the airport. Even though she thought Dan was going a little overboard with the protection bit, she didn’t say so. He was wound so tight that she could feel her own muscles aching in empathy.
It was hard not to whine, though. Just a little. “Dan, can’t I sit up there just a minute or two?”
If he heard her, then he was doing a dandy job of ignoring her.
“My butt’s asleep!”
“We’re nearly there,” he snapped. “A couple more blocks.”
Molly rolled her eyes. Her left foot was asleep, too. She’d be lucky if she could walk. She didn’t even want to think about the shape her suit was in. And her hair was a mess from sleeping on the plane. The jury was going to take her for a bag lady.
She swayed against the front seat when the car came to a stop.
“Don’t get out until I tell you, Molly,” Dan said. “And keep your head down.”
“Aye, aye, Captain, sir,” she muttered after he jumped out and slammed the door on her. She could hear him barking orders left and right, swearing, shouting. Then the door opened and suddenly he wanted her out of the car…yesterday!
“Come on, Molly. Move it. Let’s go.”
Once out of the car, she saw the reason for the rush. A dozen or more men had stopped all foot traffic in front of the small downtown hotel. Another half-dozen guys with serious suits and grim faces and the regulation shades were waiting to surround her on the walk from the sidewalk through the front door of the hotel.
All of a sudden she was scared. To death. Her legs turned to Silly Putty just as Dan’s arm went around her and pulled her close against his hip.
“You’re okay,” he said as if he’d somehow read her mind. “We’ll be up in the room in just a minute.”
It took way more than a minute, but once they were in the room and Dan turned the lock and fastened the chain on the door, Molly took in a great gulp of air. She thought she’d probably been holding her breath ever since getting out of the car. She was shaking, trying so hard not to wimp out on Dan, trying not to cry.
“S-somebody really d-does want me d-dead.” Her tears spilled over. “Oh, God. I want to g-go home. Take me home, Dan. Take me b-back to Moonglow.”
“Count on it, Molly,” he said as his arms went around her, holding her so tight, so close against him that she could feel every muscle in his body. He held her that way, not saying a word, just silently, almost magically letting his strength seep into her until she was calm, until her tears dried up, until she could lean back a bit and smile up at him and say, “What a wimp, huh?”
He thumbed away the last traces of her tears. “Nope. Never that. I’ve seen you take on Gil Watson bare-handed, remember?”
“Well, Gil’s not in quite the same league as the Red Millennium.” There was still the suggestion of a tremor in her voice. “I guess I just never took it seriously until I saw all those men in flak jackets out on the sidewalk. Somebody really does want me dead.”
“Well, somebody’s in for a big disappointment then, not to mention life without parole in a maximum security facility.”
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly one o’clock. “How long before we have to leave for the courthouse?”
“I want to get you there by three,” he said, checking his watch. “Just in case Buddy Jr.’s stint on the stand is done early.”
“Buddy’s here? In Philadelphia?”
He pointed to the ceiling. “And Raylene. In the room right above this. She’s at the courthouse now.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the bed. “What do you say we invite them down tonight and send out for a couple pizzas? Would you like that?”
She nodded eagerly. “That would be almost as good as being home.”
“Consider it done.” He picked up the phone and as he punched in some numbers, his face hardened again. His gaze might have remained on Molly as he spoke, but he didn’t even seem to see her.
“McCarthy? It’s Shackelford. Just checking to see that you’ve got somebody at the elevators on every floor.”
It was nearly three o’clock before Molly was aware of it. She had unpacked, freshened up, lain down to close her eyes for a minute, then Dan was softly shaking her shoulder.
“It’s time, Molly.”
She opened her eyes to see Dan’s handsome but somber face hovering over hers, to realize that the door to the adjacent room was open now and several grim-faced people were coming and going through it, to witness what struck her as a strange, silent ballet.
Dan sat her up. “Here. Let’s get this on.” He angled her arms through something heavy and dark.
“What? What are you doing? What is this…this thing?”
“Just a precaution, babe,” he said quietly, tugging, zipping, making a few adjustments.
Molly snapped fully awake. He was putting a bullet-proof vest on her. “Is it three o’clock already?”
“Close enough,” he said, still fiddling with clasps and catches under her arms, behind her back.
“Wait a minute,” Molly said a bit frantically. “Wait just a minute. I need to brush my hair. Where’s my lipstick?” Suddenly, irrationally, putting on lipstick became absolutely crucial. A matter of life and death. “I need to put on lipstick,” she insisted.
“There’s no time,” Dan said.
“I need to put on lipstick,” she howled, batting at his hands.
He straightened up and stepped back. The look on his face was nearly savage as he stabbed a finger in the direction of the bathroom. “You’ve got one minute,” he snarled.
Molly jumped off the bed, grabbed her handbag and raced for the john. When she looked in the huge mirror over the sink, she hardly recognized herself. Her face was pale as a sheet. Her eyes were enormous. It was the stark face of fear.
But, by God, she was going to put lipstick on it. She thrashed around in her handbag until she found some. He
r hands were shaking so badly she dropped the plastic cap on the floor, then she could barely twist the bottom to make the tube of color come up. Tears started stinging her eyes.
There was a sharp knock on the door. “Molly!”
She couldn’t even answer. She just stared in the mirror, hardly aware that the door had opened slightly, that Dan had slipped inside and closed it again.
“Molly?” His voice had softened considerably. “Baby, it’s time.”
She leaned closer to the mirror. “I have to…” She brought the lipstick close to her mouth, but her fingers were trembling so much now that she could hardly hold it. “I have to…”
“It’s okay,” he said, gently taking the tube from her hand. “Here. Turn around.” His warm hands turned her toward him. “Hold still, now.”
Slowly, with infinite care, as if he had all the time in the world, he applied the lipstick to her mouth. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her scrambled brain, Molly realized that his hands were absolutely steady. And somewhere deep in her soul she realized she’d never love anyone, ever, as much as she loved Dan this moment.
“There,” he said softly. A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “God, you’re pretty, Molly. Did I ever tell you that?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I should have, darlin’. I should have.” His warm smile flickered out. “It’s time to go now.”
The hall looked five miles long to Dan as they walked toward the elevator. He heard himself say, “Molly, this is Deputy Connie Whitman. She’s going to ride with us to the courthouse.” And the solid sound of his own voice shocked him because even as the words came out, he was thinking this was all wrong. It was too much like the last time. The female partner. The witness. The corridor. The elevator at the end.
But it wasn’t like the last time. He’d done everything right. He had men on every floor, at every entrance and exit, at every elevator stop. This time everything was right.
He focused on the pattern in the carpet just ahead of his feet for a second, fighting off the cold sweat that was prickling his chest, the small of his back.
“You better alert the guys downstairs, Dan,” Connie said.
“Right.” He brought the walkie-talkie close to his mouth. “Two minutes, McCarthy. You read me?”
“Two minutes. Got it,” the box squawked back. “We’re sending the elevator up, Dan.”
“Right.”
The edges of his vision blurred for a second and the corridor shrank. Please, God. He was losing it.
Molly was making a concerted effort to breathe deeply as she walked between Dan and the dark-haired female deputy. The heavy vest didn’t make that any easier.
As they neared the elevator at the end of the corridor, she could hear the hum of the soda and snack machines in the little alcove off to her left. She glanced in, thinking she’d give anything right now for a cold, wet can of diet cola. Maybe a candy bar, too. Had she eaten lunch? She couldn’t remember.
Stupid, thinking about candy at a time like this, she told herself, but perhaps that was the brain’s way of grappling with stark terror. Thinking about chocolate and caramel and peanuts and…
Dan shifted in front of her as the brass elevator doors began to slide open.
Dan motioned Connie into the elevator first, then stood aside for Molly to enter. “You’re doing fine,” he whispered as she passed, wishing he could say the same for himself.
He stepped in.
The Muzak was wafting an old Patsy Cline song. “Crazy.” For a split second he thought he probably was, wanting to spend the rest of his life with a woman who cared more about his body than his heart and soul. But what the hell.
“We’re in,” he said into the handset.
His gaze lodged on the control panel directly ahead of him. Polished aluminum. It reminded him a little of the Airstream. Then his vision honed in on the tiny scratches around all the numbered buttons.
The clean buttons. The pure white buttons. All of them new. Pristine. Untouched.
His arm shot out to stop the closing doors.
“Molly, get out. Run.” He shoved her, hard but not hard enough to make her lose her balance. “Go, Connie,” he shouted, jamming his shoulder into the door to keep it open. “This elevator’s going to blow. Get her away.”
“Code Red,” he said into the handset. “Code Red. We’ve got a bomb in the central elevator on five.”
The box squawked back. “Roger. Code Red. Dammit. We’re on the way.”
They were going to be too late. Dan shoved between the big metal doors, saw Molly and Connie thirty feet down the hall and still running, saw the vending machine alcove a few yards off to his right, saw his life flash before his eyes as he leapt for it.
The explosion was deafening. Connie had pushed her down, and thick, acrid smoke was rolling over them even as Molly struggled to get up.
“Dan!” she screamed.
Connie kept grabbing her hand. “Stay here,” she said. “Stay down.”
But Molly pulled away and started down the corridor. A few lights still flickered from dangling fixtures, but even so, she could hardly see for the smoke and bits of ash drifting through the air.
“Dan!” she screamed again.
Ahead of her the elevator doors were twisted sheets of metal with little tongues of flame licking at their edges. The interior was a black hole. But he had gotten out. She was sure she’d seen him in that instant just before Connie pushed her down.
“Dan!”
She thought she heard something in the room where she’d seen the vending machines earlier. A crunch of glass. A groan. She hurried.
He was alive! He was kneeling, leaning against the shattered front of a soda machine, his fingers gripping the broken plastic. Through the smoke, she could see candy and cans and ice cubes everywhere. And blood. Was that blood?
“Molly.” His voice was ragged.
“I’m here, Dan.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “I’m here. Help’s coming.” She looked frantically over her shoulder. Where were they?
“Molly,” he said again. She could hardly hear him. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just hang on.” Oh, where were they? “Connie!” she screamed, and then softly, “Dan, do you want to lie down? Let me help you. What can I do?”
She couldn’t hear his reply, so she put her ear close to his mouth. “What, sweetheart?”
“Love me.”
“Oh, I do. I love you with all my heart.”
“Not just…?”
“Not just what, love?” Behind her, Molly could hear voices in the corridor. Thank God.
Dan turned his head then, just enough for their eyes to meet. “Not…not just for sex?”
Molly couldn’t hold back her tears. “No, sweetheart. I love you just for you.”
His mouth twitched in a painful, faltering grin. “That’s good, Mol, ’cause I don’t think I’m going to be able to…” Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he slid to the floor, already slick with bright red blood.
Epilogue
If anyone had told Molly a mere two months ago that coming back to Moonglow would be at the very top of her “Things I Most Want to Do” list, she would have laughed. But not the way she was laughing now, only a few miles outside the town limits. She was laughing for pure joy.
“You better ease up on the gas, Mol.” Dan gave her a cautionary look over the rims of his shades. “Unless, of course, you actually like being pulled over by Moonglow’s finest.”
“Sorry.” She lifted her foot, and the needle on the BMW’s speedometer dropped from seventy to forty-five. “I’m just so happy we’re almost home.”
For a while, she hadn’t been certain they’d ever get here. By the time help reached him, Dan had lost so much blood that he was in severe shock. From the second an EMT had entered the bloody alcove, taken one look at Dan and yelled “Hurry. He’s bleeding out,” to the moment he’d opened his eyes three days later, Molly didn
’t eat or sleep or even take a deep breath. All she did was will Dan to live.
Raylene was with her constantly, even though half the time Molly didn’t even know who was holding her hand or offering her a tissue or putting coffee and cookies nearby, just in case. Bobby flew in from Houston, offered her a shoulder to cry on, but she couldn’t even do that.
The explosion had sent a fragment of metal slicing into Dan’s leg, high inside his left thigh, severing the femoral artery. But he made it through. She glanced to her right, just glimpsing the savage scar near the cuff of his baggy cargo shorts. He made it through only to open his eyes and not know her for the next thirty-six hours, while he refused to believe anybody—her, the doctors, Raylene, Bobby—that he hadn’t gotten her killed.
After that, there was the week of profound depression. “It happens,” they told her. “It’s not unusual after trauma and so many transfusions.”
And then one morning she’d walked into his room and he’d smiled. Not one of those blazing grins. Just a fledgling smile. Sweet and warm. And Molly sat down on the cold linoleum floor and sobbed for twenty minutes, she was so damned happy.
She braked at the stop sign on the edge of town, looked over at Dan to find another smile on his lips. This one was fairly Mona Lisa-ish.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Wallpaper,” he said.
“Wallpaper!”
“Yep.”
“And that’s why you’re smiling?”
He looked over his dark glasses again. “It’s funny wallpaper, Molly.”
She shook her head. “It must be.”
“Are we gonna just sit here at the stop sign the rest of the afternoon, or are we going home?”
Home. In Moonglow. Imagine that!
Dan was smiling because, if everything went the way he and Raylene had planned during about two hundred dollars’ worth of long-distance phone calls between his hospital room and her beauty shop, Molly was about to be welcomed home in style.
