The Great Escape

by Amanda Carpenter

  Mike hesitated and then admitted slowly, “I’m beginning to see your perspective a bit, yes.”

  “That’s a handsome thing to admit—and by the way, I do feel awful about that, really. I’d never done anything like that in my life. And I think you’re taking it amazingly well.”

  A strange, slight smile split the hard quality of his features. She felt something hit her in the region of her stomach and she stared, obviously. The gleam of his white teeth showed against a naturally dark complexion tanned to an even darker brown. He dragged a chair around and relaxed into it, and she was struck anew at his long length when he stretched out his legs, much like the earlier afternoon.

  “Perhaps it’s because I sympathise with you more than I should,” he murmured, and she felt so jolted by that admission, she didn’t know what to say. There was a strange look invading his eyes, making them cloudy. “You feel threatened; it’s understandable. Besides, as I said before, if I’m that easy to dupe, then I deserve to be drugged. It’ll teach me a lesson.”

  “Never to trust me again, I’ll bet!” laughed Dee, her eyes crinkling at him. She saw his widen briefly before his lids came down to hide them. “You know, I have to say I really admire your work. You’ve done an excellent job hunting me down. It’s nothing short of incredible how you’ve managed to unravel my tangled trail.”

  “I thank you,” he replied with a jaunty inclination of his head. “And I should return the compliment by saying that I can’t remember when I’ve felt so challenged. Your brain must be very twisted to come up with some of the stunts you pulled. That was very clever, hiding away in the attic to wait for the uproar of your disappearance to go elsewhere. The one place in the world where no one thought to look. Well done, indeed!”

  She felt a flicker of uneasiness lick at her mind again. This man was so frighteningly, formidably alert—only one person in a thousand could have guessed her ruse from that night. And she was pitting her wits against him. She felt a sudden keen regret that fate had placed her in opposition with him. She liked and admired him. “How did you know I’d camped in the attic?”

  “Merely chance. After a few days of checking around the airports and bus depots, I returned to the scene of departure and went over your room inch by inch,” he explained, putting a lean fingered hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “When I idly pushed on the loose panel of wood that lay across the hole, I realised I’d hit pay dirt. That was when I finally began to understandwhat kind of intelligence I was up against. Fresh breadcrumbs and a half used gallon jug of water gave you away, I’m afraid.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” Dee shook her head at her own forgetfulness. “Well, it served its purpose at the time.”

  “Served its purpose quite well, I should think,” retorted Mike, standing to go over to the phone and picking up the phone book lying beside it. “I’d been meaning to ask you—were you the smart aleck who called the press and told them you were missing?”

  She gurgled with laughter. “Yes, I am. It was the only way I could think of to handicap your movements. Did it work?”

  “Infuriatingly. I swore several times that when I caught up with you, I’d wring your pretty little neck! Would you like some pizza?” he asked, running a neatly manicured finger down one side of the page slowly.

  “N-not really,” she murmured, feeling very full from her supper. “I had quite a bit to eat just a little while ago. I might manage a piece or two. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” he told her, “famished, and otherwise ravenous. I haven’t eaten since early this afternoon, and for some inexplicable reason seemed to lose my appetite at the truck stop.” His finger stopped for a moment.

  Dee felt just terrible as a pang of guilt shot through her. For the first time she realised just how much she had upset this man’s life, dragging him all over the country and upsetting his schedule. Her jaw and eyes hardened at that thought, and she got angry at herself for getting too sympathetic with someone who was perfectly able to take care of himself. He had taken the job. It wasn’t her fault that he had galloped all over the place, looking for her. And he probably was well paid for it, too.

  Mike glanced up just then and caught the hardened, bitter look on her tired face, and his own expression changed. Putting down the phone book, he crossed his arms in front of his wide chest and kicked one leg over the other. “You’ve just remembered, haven’t you?” he murmured. “For a few hours you actually forgot that I’m the bad guy in this situation.”

  And suddenly the veneer was stripped away and she was seeing again the purpose behind all the charm and pleasantness, and a feeling of anger and, strangely, loss welled up inside her. Being lonely when one is not alone is a frustrating emotion, and she experienced it as she stared across the room at the man who was against her at every turn. “Well?” she asked, flippant and not caring that she was. “Aren’t you? Just along with all the others who never took the time to ask what would make me happy, instead of telling me? Pardon me, mister, but I don’t think very highly of your methods!”

  A brow cocked at that. He was angry. “And you’re the original ‘poor little rich girl’, is that it? The usual outcry of the teenager—nobody understands me! Do you have any idea of the amount of worry and care and trouble that you’ve brought to so many people? Do you even care?”

  It had been quite some time since she had thought of herself as an adolescent, and the suspicion that he thought of her as such hurt unbearably. She felt a wave of fury so deeply intense that she wasn’t sure she could control it, and she stood, her eyes blazing brilliantly in her suddenly white face. They looked like jewels, liquid and sparkling, and the man across the room watched her intently. For a moment she wasn’t sure if she was going to walk up to him and slap his face hard or walk out of the room, and the struggle for control seemed to take forever, though in actuality it was only a few moments. She just looked at him, turned on her heel, and headed for the bathroom.

  Suddenly he was there, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to turn around, and this was heaping insult upon injury. Her eyes spat hatred at him; how could she have considered him someone she could like and respect? “Running away seemed to be a habit with you!” he gritted between his teeth. “Perhaps it’s because you don’t want to grow up, is that it? You can’t stand it when things don’t go your own way, can you?”

  She thought the top of her head would come off with the pressure of trying to keep her temper in control, and she said slowly, measuringly, bitingly, “I am not, as you so eloquently put it, ‘running away’ from what you have to say. I merely think it’s unimportant and irrelevant to this topic of conversation.” She paused and drew in a deep breath, and it sounded ragged even to her own ears. “I know more than you could just exactly the extent of worry I caused some people, and frankly it leaves me unimpressed. I suggest that you keep both your hands and your meaningless homilies to yourself until you know the full situation and know just what the hell you’re talking about!” With her two hands stiffened, she swept his off her shoulders, then left the room with dignity.

  Mike stood a long time, just staring after her, in the middle of the room after she had disappeared.

  Dee sank down to the floor in the bathroom, her leg muscles quivering weakly from reaction. She was appalled to think of the two of them, apparently rational and calm-tempered people, just blowing up at each other like they had. Granted, the last few days had been a bit hectic, but that last tangle had not been at all what a hired private investigator and a found runaway would normally have had. It was more—personal than that. It shouldn’t have been. They were in opposition with each other on an issue that should be the sole point of contention between them, and yet it was pushed to a level beyond that. He had actually been angry, deeply, emotionally upset at something just now, and she—well, she had felt somehow betrayed by his reaction to a situation that he should not be personally involved in. And the question that she asked herself was, why?

  It was
all too tangled for her to fathom. Life, nine months ago, had been much more black and white, the good guys and the bad, the prison and the escape. And now she was tired and she was lonely, and she only wanted to live her life in peace. She never wanted to hear Mike Carridine’s name again. And this thought made her very upset, because she knew it to be a lie.

  After a time she stirred and reached out a lethargic hand to turn on the water taps for a bath. Steaming hot water gushed out and she stripped eagerly. She was aching, and a soak in the tub would do her good. She sank into the painfully warm wetness with many sighs and upstarts from the heat. Then, as her body adjusted to the temperature, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Some time later, she sudsed busily and rinsed herself, and as she rose out of the tub, she realised that she didn’t have any clean clothes with her. She hated to get dressed just to get her nightshirt, just to come back and change again, so she called out, “Mike? Mike?”

  Footsteps sounded just outside the door and his voice wafted through the barrier. “What do you need?” His tone seemed much milder and she felt relieved.

  “Could you dig in my suitcase—no, wait! My knapsack has it—could you bring me my nightshirt? I forgot to bring it in with me.”

  “Just a moment.” Footsteps receded and a moment ticked by, then he was rapping at the door of the bathroom. “I’ll leave it by the door.”

  Dee grabbed the towel and wrapped it tightly around her. “Don’t bother, I’m decent enough. Here—” And she opened the door to encounter his gaze with something like shock quivering through them both. He handed her the small bundle of material and she thanked him gravely. Something showed in his face, very briefly, as his eyes travelled down the length of her involuntarily, touching on the long slim legs, the finely shaped, glistening collarbones, the grace of her wet bare arms. Her eyes were an enormous, sapphire blue, and her expression was uncertain.

  Then Mike was backing up and shutting the door, leaving her to wonder shakily what that look had been about.

  She yanked her over-large shirt over her head and found as she shook out the garment that a filmy white flutter fell to the ground. It was a clean pair of panties, and she flushed at his thoughtfulness, feeling embarrassed.

  In the other room, as she entered it, she found him lounging on the bed that he had claimed for his own, shoes off and one leg propped casually up with the other stretched full out. His gaze was fixed on the television screen directly opposite him and she realised that the late movie was on. He had an open cardboard box on a chair dragged over by the bed, and she saw that it was a pizza, with several pieces already gone. When her eyes went back to his face, she saw that he was intent, abstracted, his lean face sombre and his eyes withdrawn.

  She excused herself politely as she walked in front of the television and refused, as politely, his offer of pizza. Soon she was cross-legged on her own bed, brushing out her hair thoughtfully, staring at the opposite wall.

  An abrupt movement made her look up enquiringly to meet Mike’s brooding gaze. “I don’t want to hear that motel door open,” he said pointedly, nodding to the outside door. Dee just stared at him blankly, saw his lips thin with exasperation, then he picked up his small toilet case to stalk into the bathroom.

  Her gaze swept to the door and she briefly considered making a dash for it. But he was too alert for that, she knew, and he would be after her so fast it wouldn’t be worth the effort. She was too tired, anyway.

  However, she mused, slanting a glance to her jeans by the bed… She tore into them in record time, and was sliding under the covers with her legs well hidden by the time the bathroom door opened again. When Mike came out she was pulling the covers up to her chin and peering over the edge doubtfully at him.

  His lips twisted, but whatever he was thinking he didn’t say, as he sat on the edge of his own bed with his back to her. Off came his shirt, and she ran her eyes over his beautiful back, already able to recognise that neat taper down to a slim waist. His rib cage rippled under sleek muscles and he stood, hands at his waist, unfastening his slacks.

  Dee turned her head away at this, not wanting to see what happened next. Obviously he was not embarrassed about someone seeing his naked body. He was, after all, much older than she. He had probably disrobed for a woman before. She suddenly had a burning curiosity, wondering if he would sleep in the raw tonight, but she didn’t have the courage to turn around and look.

  A tiny click plunged them both into darkness and she turned at that to see a shadowy large figure move for the other bed and climb in with a creaking of bed springs Illogically, Dee felt frustrated at the cloaking darkness that hid the sight of his body from her seeking gaze, and that was a thought that brought her up short, disconcerted.

  Silence. She couldn’t hear his breathing across the room, and that was nerve-racking. She pinched herself, bit her lip nervously until it bled, and thought of the most exhilarating and exciting things she could imagine in an effort to stay awake. Frustration gnawed away inside of her because she wouldn’t let herself toss and turn to relieve the tension. It was hard to stay awake, very hard, and time ticked away slowly—too slowly. She waited and her lip bled sickeningly where she had bit it, and she stared up at the blackness directly overhead that was the ceiling. After an eternity she reached very, very carefully over the edge of her bed and picked up her slim gold watch. Bringing it close to her eyes and turning it this way and that, she was finally able to make out the time. Close to four o’clock. There was absolutely no movement from the other bed, no indication whether he was awake or not.

  She would just have to chance it. If he was awake, well then, the only thing that could happen was that he would catch her, and that didn’t bother her at all.

  It did, really, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from trying. Her hands slid down to her sweater and her socks and shoes stacked neatly together, grasping that with one hand while the other groped for her handbag. A second of panic gripped her when she thought she might have left it over on the other side of the room, but then her hand encountered the smooth, cool leather strap and she picked it up silently. Then her legs slid to the side of the bed and she started to stand very carefully, slowly. The bed didn’t even sigh.

  She didn’t want to risk making a noise in an attempt to slip into the rest of her clothes, and by now it was late enough so that everyone should be asleep and the parking lot deserted. She’d put everything on just outside the door.

  Silent as a wraith, she glided over the floor to the door, and had to put down some of her things to feel delicately for the lock and bolt. Catching her fingers on something, she grasped the thing protruding out about shoulder-high and pushed very, very carefully, experimentally. The bolt slid open without a sound, and she then reached for the doorknob to turn the lock there. The darkness behind her was completely silent, and she wanted to call out to him to say goodbye, a strange, insane desire that had her nearly laughing out loud. Picking up the clothes that she had put down and shifting her handbag to one shoulder, she grasped the knob and hesitated briefly. There was nothing else for it but to open the door as quickly and as silently possible and to pray that the cold night air didn’t wake him.

  She turned the knob, pulled the door slightly open and slipped through to shut it immediately. She shivered convulsively as the night wind brushed her bare arms. Only vaguely did she take in the sound of low voices close by, and she didn’t even see the two shadowy figures on the other side of the car parked three spaces down. She slipped her things on to the ground and swiftly tucked her nightshirt into her jeans, pulling on her black sweater with shaking hands.

  She didn’t stay just outside the door to put on her socks and shoes but instead inched delicately away, shuddering as the cold cement under her feet turned them into blocks of ice. Propping her bag on the hood of Mike’s car, she slipped on her shoes and socks—then gagged from shock when a low masculine voice sounded right by her ear. He had heard her! But then she realised that the voice had come from
behind the car, not by the motel door, and this sent fear zigzagging down her spine in an electric jolt.

  “Hey, cute thing, where you goin’, so late at night?” the strange voice asked her, and she started to back away, nearly screaming when she came up against something solid. In fact, she thought about it and then would have screamed anyway to wake Mike up and let him know she was in trouble, but a rough hand clamped down over her lips and a low voice admonished her to be silent.

  There was no choice about that, with that biting hand gripping her so hard, but she wasn’t going to just stand there passively. The man gripping her privately marvelled at how violent such a little thing could be. She writhed and kicked and squirmed grimly, determined to hurt as much as she possibly could, but he was far stronger than she, and the element of surprise had been to his favour. Then the other man was cursing and grabbing her arms with a bruising pressure, both of them forcing her away from the building.

  There were more low curses as some of her wild blows hit home. The second man holding her arms swore vulgarly as her kicking landed a vicious blow on his shin, but he soon put an end to that by reaching down and wrapping both arms around her flailing legs. That left her hands free, and she suddenly reached back to scratch hard at the face of the man behind her. His head jerked back to avoid those wounding, dangerous claws, and his grip loosened enough on her mouth for her to be able to force her jaws open and fasten her teeth into the soft, fleshy part of his hand. She bit with every particle of strength in her, with the tenacity of a fighting wildcat, and briefly tasted something sour before a warm, salty spurt of blood filled her mouth. The man hissed in pain and rage, and he landed a heavy, stunning blow to the side of her head, making the world jerk sickeningly, but Dee didn’t let go. She wanted to be sure she would have time enough for one lung-bursting, ear-splitting, peace-shattering scream, for the only sounds so far had been the men’s low cursing and her own sobbing breaths. She almost made it; she would have made it, except that the other man, taking in his accomplice’s pain, loosened his hold on her legs and fastened his heavy hands on her neck.