by Karen Leabo
“Oh, why do I even try?” Jenn sank onto the bed and began removing Cathy’s shoes.
“Because I’m a soft touch?”
“Ha!” She took off Cathy’s jacket, then her sweater. The child remained limp. “Although,” she added, her tone more thoughtful, “I guess I haven’t given you any reason to believe that I won’t stage another escape.”
“Amen to that.”
“Am I the worst fugitive you’ve ever caught?”
“By a long shot. Does that please you?”
She managed a smile. “In a way.”
He smiled back. “Come on, get into your pajamas, or whatever,” he said, again thinking about the white nightgown, “and I’ll cuff you to, um...” Well, hell, there really wasn’t anything convenient to fasten the cuffs to. “Damn.”
“What?”
He thought for a minute, then grabbed a pillow from the unoccupied bed and stripped off the blankets. “I’ll sleep on the floor in front of the door.” It wasn’t the solution he’d had in mind, but it would do. There was no way those two could open the door without waking him. If Judge Palmer found out, he’d simply have to understand.
It wasn’t exactly that Joe was kind or softhearted; he’d allowed Jenn to sleep cuffless because it was the only practical thing to do. Nonetheless, after her bath, Jenn luxuriated in the feel of clean sheets and the fact that neither arm was wrenched above her head.
Joe was already asleep, lying crossways just inches from the locked door. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get past him, so she didn’t even try. He’d also somehow rendered the phone inoperable, too, so calling for help was out.
She sat up and looked at him once more before turning out the light. He’d removed his boots and belt, but other than that he’d done nothing to make himself comfortable. Still trying to hold on to propriety, she figured—like she really cared. She wasn’t one to worry about appearances, and by now she knew the guy wasn’t a rapist or, God help her, a child molester. But Dennis would care, as Joe had pointed out.
Joe was a restless sleeper, she’d discovered, and he’d already kicked off the blankets and wadded his pillow into a ball. But she could see that, no matter how he thrashed, he wouldn’t move far enough away from the door to do her any good.
She sighed and switched off the bedside light. Her only course of action was to get as much rest as possible and hope for another opportunity to escape tomorrow.
Or to convince Joe to let her go. She could tell him about what had gone on between herself and her stepfather. But she knew it would damn near kill her to admit what she’d done. She’d been told over and over, by her therapist, by the self-help books she’d read, that she was the victim and not at all to blame.
But why, then, had she let it go on for years, even after she’d learned how wrong it was?
Joe already thought she was a lying, conniving witch and an irresponsible mother. Stupid as it seemed, she couldn’t allow him to know the real Jenn Montgomery, the one who’d accepted, with a smile, gifts, money and special privileges from her stepfather, then cried into her pillow in anguish at night. No wonder she’d repressed the memories. Even though she knew she’d been a frightened child, she felt despicable for allowing Dennis to get away with his crime scot-free.
She fell into an uneasy sleep. Sometime deep into the night she awoke to the gentle sound of Joe’s snoring and her daughter’s comforting, regular breathing. She wished she could sleep like that. She couldn’t remember when the last time was that she’d slept uninterrupted through a night.
She felt hot and sticky. She turned on the lamp and, unable to locate a thermostat, decided to crack the window and let in some fresh air.
She tiptoed around Joe’s sleeping form. He moved and she jumped, but he was obviously still asleep as he flopped over onto his stomach. He had a fantastic tush.
Lord, why was she even thinking about his tush? Shaking her head, she continued to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it open about three inches.
The air was colder than she expected, and she immediately went from warm and clammy to shivering. Yikes, enough fresh air, she thought as she prepared to close the window. That’s when she noticed that the screen was off.
Her heartbeat accelerated. Her means of escape had been here all along! She glanced around the room, quickly formulating a plan. She would get her and Cathy dressed as quietly as possible, then ...
Wait a minute. Those were Joe’s car keys on the floor. He’d probably pulled them out of his jeans’ pocket to keep them from jabbing him; he might have even done it in his sleep. She’d noticed he was usually very careful with those keys.
Forget getting dressed, she decided. She would throw everything into the Monte Carlo and worry about clothes later. The sooner she and Cathy were gone, the less chance they had of waking Joe.
Working efficiently, she gathered up two sets of clothes, a few toiletries, her purse and the car keys, loading it all into a shopping bag. She then opened the window wider, grateful that someone had kept it oiled so that it didn’t squeak. She set the bag outside. Now all she had to do was awaken Cathy just enough to put a jacket on her and carry her through the window.
“Mama?” Cathy said drowsily when Jenn gently shook her.
“Shh, punkin, be real quiet. We don’t want to wake Mr. Andresi.”
“We running away again?”
“Yes. The window is open and he’s fast asleep.”
Cathy sighed. “Okay, but it never works.”
“It will this time.” It has to, Jenn silently prayed.
Mere seconds later they were in Joe’s car. Jenn felt a thrill of victory as she started the engine. The heater blasted to life. She could do it! She and Cathy were getting away clean. She backed out of the parking space before she could question what she was doing.
Cathy, now wide awake, peered out the car windows at the sleeping town with interest. “Mama?”
“What, punkin?” Jenn answered distractedly. She was concentrating hard on driving the unfamiliar car.
“Are we stealing Mr. ’Dresi’s car?”
“Well, no, we’re just borrowing it.”
“Did he give us permission?”
Ah, the sly little fox. Hadn’t Jenn lectured Cathy many times about asking for permission before she took something of Jenn’s, even if she intended to return it? “No, I didn’t ask,” Jenn admitted.
Cathy said nothing, but her little face was scrunched up in concentrated thought.
“We won’t keep it for long,” Jenn rationalized. “We’ll leave the car someplace where he can find it.” Where was that damn highway sign, anyway? Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the turns Joe had taken last night on the way to the motel?
Cathy remained silent.
All at once, the enormity of Jenn’s actions hit her. My God, she was a car thief. She was committing a felony. She’d stepped over the line, and she was teaching her daughter that stealing was okay if you had a good reason. That wasn’t a lesson she wanted Cathy to learn.
She pulled over to the side of the road, threw the car in park, and rested her forehead against the steering wheel.
“Mama?”
“Okay, we’ll take the car back,” she said. “We can escape on foot. There must be a bus station or something in this town.” She pulled a U-turn on the deserted street, then chanced a peek at Cathy. The little girl was smiling, and Jenn knew she was doing the right thing. And perhaps it wouldn’t be too awful if she locked Joe’s keys in the car, to slow down his pursuit a bit.
Just as she was starting to feel good about herself again, she heard a loud pop and a thlump-thlump-thlump. The car lurched and tipped noticeably to the left. Jenn knew, with sickening certainty, that she had a flat.
Chapter 7
Joe knew that sound anywhere. It was his car starting up. Dread wedged itself in his gut as he jumped to his feet, instantly awake, and flipped on the light.
Just as he’d feared. They were gone. And, son of a bitch
, they’d stolen his car. He spent precious seconds just staring, dumbfounded, wondering how they’d gotten past him. Then be felt a draft from the window, which was open a couple of inches, and he had his answer.
Idiot, he berated himself as he fumbled with the door lock. Why hadn’t he thought to check the window?
By the time he jerked the door open, his Monte Carlo was roaring out of the parking lot. Rather than running after the escapees and screaming, which was what he wanted to do, he watched the car, marking its direction until the taillights were out of his range of vision. She’d turned right toward the eastbound access road to the highway. He figured she would make for the first city of any size—like Missoula, Montana—and try to shake him off her trail there.
Now, more than ever, he needed a cool head to outsmart his sneaky little fugitives. He could vent his anger later. Right now he needed a plan, and he needed one fast. As he quickly pulled on his boots, he decided on a course of action.
His breath steamed as he strode toward the motel office. It had grown noticeably colder during the night. Had Jenn and Cathy taken enough warm clothing with them? He cursed himself for even caring.
The same redhead was still at the desk. Without preamble, Joe said, “I’ll pay you fifty bucks if you’ll lend me your car.”
The woman’s eyebrows flew up. “Where’s yours?”
“Stolen, but I think I can catch up with it.”
“Ah.” She nodded with what she probably thought was savvy understanding. “Ugly divorce? Custody battle over the kid?”
He wanted to retort that it was none of this woman’s business, but he desperately needed her cooperation. “Something like that,” he muttered. “I won’t keep your car for long. If I don’t have any luck in the next couple of hours, I’ll bring it right back.”
The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Make it seventy-five bucks, and you got a deal.”
Joe grimaced as he pulled out his wallet. “Done.” What was it with these northwesterners? he wondered. Were they all into extortion? He paid the redhead, and she handed him a set of keys. “White compact, first parking spot over there,” she said, pointing to a small heap that looked as if the only thing holding it together were the bumper stickers advertising heavy metal rock groups. “It needs gas.”
“Thanks,” he said. His sarcasm was probably lost on her.
He soon discovered that the ancient compact car had about an eighth of a tank of gas. That would do for now. The heater apparently didn’t work, one headlight was burned out and a rear side window was missing, with duct tape a poor substitute for glass. But the car moved, and that was all Joe cared about.
—Jenn and Cathy couldn’t be more than about ten miles ahead of him, he figured. If he pushed the borrowed car to its limits, he could catch up with her in only a few minutes. He was making for the highway, hell-bent on his target, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye that made him slam on the brakes.
It couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly get that lucky. But he looked in the rearview mirror. A street lamp shone on a brown Monte Carlo with a crumpled hood that could be none other than his. Jenn was kneeling on the pavement beside the car. Now he could see that she was trying to manage a tire jack.
A flat tire! Sometimes fate was kind to those who needed a break, and he’d sure needed one. He made a U-turn and pulled up behind Jenn. She apparently was concentrating so hard that she didn’t hear his approach until he was almost upon her. Then she sprang to her feet and whirled around, her face a mask of apprehension.
He knew the exact moment she recognized him. The fear disintegrated, replaced by utter desolation. He opened the door and stepped out. “Need some help?” he asked innocently.
“No, thanks,” she said, trying for nonchalance. But her voice trembled. “I know how to change a tire. Damnation, where did you come from? How did you find me?”
“I wish I could say my incredible instincts led me straight to you, but it was just dumb luck.” His words were sharp, uncompromising. He’d cut his prisoners some slack before. But this time, Jenn had stolen his car. No one messed with his car without retribution, and this was her second offense.
She looked up at him with sad eyes brimming with tears. “Did you know you’ve been driving around with almost bald tires?”
“So this is my fault?”
“Everything’s your fault,” she said, sounding utterly miserable. “Didn’t you know that?”
He couldn’t help but soften. “Aw, Jenn, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it,” she said, leaning against the brown car like her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. “I’ve been... incredibly clever, brave and resourceful, and...and nothing is working out.”
“Incredibly resourceful? You’re a car thief!”
“I was planning to return it.”
“I’ll just bet.”
“No, really,” she insisted, straightening her spine. Her indignation seemed to give her back some of her strength. “I didn’t even reach the highway before I realized I was making a mistake. Cathy reminded me that stealing is wrong, no matter what the reason. I was heading back to the motel when this happened.” She pointed to the flat.
He sensed that she was desperate to make him believe her, and he didn’t understand why, unless it was to lessen his anger. Fat chance. He’d worked up a good fury, and he was going to vent. “I could call the cops right now and have you arrested.”
“C’mon, Andresi, don’t make idle threats.” She tried to sound cocky, but he could still see the apprehension in her eyes. “If I get thrown in jail, that’ll just delay your return to Alabama.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” he said, warming to the idea. “I could go on ahead with Cathy while you’re cooling your heels in a jail cell. Once she’s safely delivered, I’ll call back up here and drop the charges. I figure you’ll follow Cathy, right?”
She looked so horror-stricken that he immediately regretted jerking her chain. “Please don’t do that, Joe,” she said. It was the first time she’d resorted to pleading. “Don’t take my baby away and deliver her to that monster. I’ll go quietly. No more escapes. You can cuff me to anything, anywhere, and I won’t complain. Just don’t—”
“All right, all right, won’t. You were right, it was an idle threat.”
She hardly looked relieved. In fact, she looked downright scared of him.
“Go sit in the other car before you freeze to death in this wind.” He glanced into the back seat of the Monte Carlo, where Cathy appeared to be asleep. He supposed she’d be all right there while he changed the tire.
Jenn turned, her shoulders slumped. But after a couple of steps she stopped and turned back. “I really was returning the car.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said indifferently as he put the various parts of the jack together, parts that had apparently baffled Jenn.
“No, really,” she said. “You have to believe me. The car is facing back the way we came, you know.”
Yes, be supposed it was. He stopped what he was doing and turning toward her, folding his arms. “Why do you care if I believe you or not?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. No, wait, yes I do. If you’re ever going to come to your senses and help me, you have to believe I’m a basically good person. And for that to happen, you have to believe that I wouldn’t really have stolen your car. I’m not a criminal. I’m just a mommy who wants to keep her daughter safe.”
She was crying again. Hellfire and damnation. He didn’t know many men who were immune to a woman’s tears, and he certainly wasn’t one of them. She might be acting, he cautioned himself. But that possibility didn’t seem to matter. He still wanted to fold her into his arms and reassure her that everything would be all right. Macho Joe was going to fix all her problems.
He had to concentrate very hard to keep from going to her. “I suppose you’ll want me to believe next that if you hadn’t had the flat, you’d have returned the car, climbed back through the windo
w and returned to bed, hoping I’d be none the wiser.”
“No. I’d have fled on foot.”
“Then why didn’t you simply abandon the car?”
“Because I wanted to take it back,” she insisted. “I’ve changed flat tires before. But you have a weird jack.”
She sounded so sincere, so believable. Hell, any lawyer would be happy to put her on the stand. No jury in its right mind would think she was anything but a devoted, loving mother. Her chances of regaining custody were not all that slim, in his opinion, even with the criminal charges filed against her.
But he wasn’t a juror. He was a bounty hunter duty bound to bring a lawbreaker to justice. He had to believe that she’d be given a fair shake when she got back to Rhymer.
Hardening his heart, he returned his attention to the jack. He heard a sniff, footsteps, a car door slamming. He felt like a class-A jerk, and he wasn’t even sure why. She was the one who’d stolen his car.
In ten minutes he had the tire changed. He put away the flat and his tools, then wiped the grime from his hands with a rag he kept in the trunk. A peek through the window told him that Cathy was still snoozing.
He closed the trunk, then walked back to the other car, opened the front door, and handed Jenn the keys. “Drive back to the motel.”
She stared at him with wide blue eyes. “By myself? You trust me to do that?”
“Sure,” he answered easily. “I’ll drive my car, with Cathy.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I never believed for a moment that you were. Where did you get this heap, anyway?”
“The redhead from the motel. Most expensive car rental in the country. Don’t forget your seat belt.”
Once he was back in the driver’s seat of his own comfortable car, he waited for Jenn to pull ahead of him, then followed her. He tried to feel smug about outsmarting her, but he couldn’t seem to muster anything remotely triumphant. After all, if she hadn’t had a flat, she might have gotten away.
