Fugitive Hearts

by Ingrid Weaver

  Even if Remy proved his innocence, even if he got his life and his daughter back, he might never be free of those bars that were still around his heart.

  “I’ve been honest with you, Dana,” he said roughly. “I told you I couldn’t give you any promises.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought you understood.”

  “I do understand, Remy.” A fresh tear slipped down her cheek. “I understand only too well.”

  “Then why are you doing this now?” he asked. “Can’t we enjoy what we have?”

  The words were there, waiting to be spoken. Why didn’t she clear up his suspicions and tell him the truth, say that she loved him? That she wanted him?

  And then what? she asked herself again. Once the magic words were spoken, would everything suddenly change? Would she and Remy live happily ever after?

  She was an idiot. A besotted, optimistic fool. She had been living in her make-believe world of books too long. Remy was right. This wasn’t one of her stories. The only future she could count on was the one that happened from one moment to the next. So why spoil it by longing for more?

  She caught his sexy, early-morning-stubbled cheeks in her hands and kissed him until the familiar passion flared anew.

  Then she closed her eyes and made believe she wasn’t really crying.

  Chapter 14

  Remy knew something was wrong the instant he opened his eyes. He stretched his arm to the space beside him. He hadn’t heard Dana leave the bed, but the sheets were already cold. How long had he been asleep? How could he have let himself fall asleep?

  He jackknifed upright and looked around. Dana’s clothes were gone. The bathroom door was open, the light was off. No sound came through the doorway to the rest of the suite. He was alone.

  She had never done this before. After they made love, she was the one who usually fell into an exhausted sleep. And he was a light sleeper. She must have taken pains to ensure she got away undetected.

  Got away? Was that why he felt uneasy? Had she finally taken his advice and left him?

  He raked his hands through his hair and did another survey of the bedroom. There was no trace of her. She had even taken away the ties they had used. After the night they’d had, and the tender way they’d greeted the dawn, could she really have left him without saying goodbye?

  He hadn’t thought Dana was like that. She wasn’t cold enough to simply cut her losses and walk. She had repeatedly said she wouldn’t. She had probably gone back to the cabin, that’s all. She must have been concerned about her cat.

  On the other hand how well did he really know her? Were there other secrets she hadn’t seen fit to tell him? Why would she have waited until she had met Chantal to tell him she couldn’t bear children?

  The suspicions that had taunted him earlier once more slinked into his mind. Dana had wanted to talk about their future. She had wanted a commitment. With her body so warm and soft in his arms, and their lovemaking still scenting the air around them, he’d been so close to giving her the promises she’d wanted…

  But then he’d remembered the last time he’d committed his future to a woman. His relationship with Sylvia had been based on sex. He’d married her for the sake of their child. He’d thought that Dana was different, but he couldn’t ignore those similarities. What if he was mistaken? Could he afford to be wrong again?

  So he had kept silent and had given her no reason to stay. She’d asked for one. That had been as clear as the tears in her eyes, but he hadn’t given her the promises she wanted. And now she was gone.

  It was probably for the best if she had left him. For her own good, she should have done it days ago.

  Remy rolled to his feet and retrieved his clothes, trying to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck. It was already midmorning. He couldn’t afford to hang around here in the lodge. He should be making plans for his next move, whether it was to search the Haineses’ house or to go after some other source of evidence. This is what happened when he let himself get involved with a woman. He didn’t think straight, or at least, he wasn’t thinking with his brain.

  A sound drifted into the bedroom. It was low, muffled, almost stealthy. It could have been ice groaning on the lake, or a tree creaking in the breeze, or perhaps the distant roar of a snowmobile engine. Or it could be what was making his neck prickle. Remy yanked up his jeans and shrugged into his shirt, moving silently to the doorway.

  Heavy, gray-bellied clouds hung low over the horizon. The daylight that filtered through the windows was an eerie shade of yellow. There would be a storm by nightfall. Was that the source of his uneasiness?

  His gaze flicked around the main room. When he’d stayed here before, he’d liked the way all the glass gave him a bird’s-eye view of the resort. He didn’t like it today. It made him feel exposed.

  He went to the telescope that was positioned in front of the south window. It was still trained on the caretaker’s cabin. He looked through the eyepiece and adjusted the focus. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, but otherwise, nothing moved. Slowly he swung the telescope toward the lane. Nothing was moving there, either, just the swaying pine boughs. The wind was picking up. A scattering of snowflakes swirled from the roof, blocking his view for a moment. When it cleared, he noticed a dark shape at the bend of the lane.

  Someone was walking there. It wasn’t Dana. Her coat was red, and this person was wearing dark blue. Remy focused more carefully, but the figure moved off the lane and into the concealment of the trees.

  Despite the gray day, Remy felt sweat break out on his forehead. He scanned the grounds again, this time concentrating on the edges of the buildings, the shadows of the trees, places that would provide cover.

  There! Someone stood to the left of the woodshed. A pair of men moved into position beside the garage.

  Remy’s breath hissed out between his teeth. His pulse jumped, his muscles went rigid. This was it. After two weeks of freedom, it was finally happening. They had caught up to him. Was Sibley out there? Was he laughing?

  Rage at the unfairness of it all swept over him. He wouldn’t go back. Not yet. He wasn’t finished. What about Chantal? And what about Dana? He had to warn her. He had to make sure she saved herself before they took him down.

  Suddenly he noticed the tire tracks in the snow. A car had been driven out of the garage, and judging by the width of the tracks, it had to have been Dana’s subcompact. He pointed the telescope back to the lane. The lines were faint, partly drifted over, so he hadn’t seen them the first time, but the tracks continued there, heading for the highway.

  He gave a grunt of relief. It looked as if she had left in time after all. That was a stroke of luck.

  Or had the timing of Dana’s departure been more than luck?

  Remy turned away from the telescope and jogged to the door. No, he wouldn’t believe it. He snatched his coat from the floor. Just because he hadn’t given Dana the assurances she’d wanted, she wouldn’t turn him in without giving him the head start he’d asked for. She wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t betray him.

  Then where was she? And why had she chosen this particular morning to leave?

  He jammed his feet into his boots and headed for the stairs.

  Sneaking off this way wasn’t really cowardly, Dana told herself. She was avoiding an argument, that’s all. She knew that Remy wouldn’t have agreed to her plan, but as she’d once told him, she made her own decisions. He couldn’t force her to leave any more than he could force her to stay.

  Just as he hadn’t forced her to love him.

  Oh, great, she thought, slowing down to wipe her sleeve across her eyes. This was no time to get mushy again. She’d better get used to the love thing. From the way her whole heart and soul was committed to it, this love she felt for him was probably going to be around for a while. Whether or not Remy would be around as long was another matter entirely.

  The street dissolved into a gray-and-white blur as another round of tears welled up. Dana
brought the car to a stop beside the park and took a tissue from her pocket to blot her eyes.

  She had to get ahold of herself. Tears wouldn’t help anyone. It had been difficult enough to slip out of bed undetected so she could make her phone calls. She didn’t want her efforts to be for nothing. Long shot or not, one way or another she was going to find the information Remy needed to prove his innocence.

  That’s what really mattered here, right? First he had to prove his innocence. And once he had his freedom, if he chose not to continue their relationship, well, that was the definition of freedom, wasn’t it? He was free to choose. She wouldn’t try to hang on to him if he wanted to go. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to her. She loved him enough to want what was best for him.

  She wadded up the soaked tissue and stuffed it in her purse. A quick check of her appearance in the rearview mirror made her grimace. She rolled down the window, hoping the cold air would take the puffiness away from her eyes, then smoothed her hair behind her ears and eased back into traffic.

  An impatient hiss came from the back seat.

  “I’m sorry, Morty,” she said. “We’re almost there. Only a few more minutes.”

  He screeched, his claws scraping the wire mesh on the front of his carrier.

  “I understand,” she said. “No one likes to be caged up. You’ve been so patient, such a good boy.”

  Silence. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Morty glared balefully at her through the mesh.

  She knew that Morty hated to be shut in that carrier. He didn’t mind short trips in the car, but the distance from Half Moon Bay to Hainesborough was at the limit of his patience. She could have left him at the cabin, of course, but he would be more useful if he accompanied her. Dana felt a stab of guilt. She had used the school and that nice Principal Hogan yesterday. Now she was using her cat, and she was planning to use Remy’s child.

  She tamped down the guilt with a burst of resolve. The deeper involved she became, the more she understood the conflicting feelings Remy must have had. What would she do for the sake of someone she loved? I would do anything, she thought, hearing the echo of the words Remy had once said to her. Whatever it takes.

  The Haines house was easy to spot. It was the largest one on the street. Made of dark, age-mellowed red brick, with old wavy glass in the bay windows and a gabled roof sheathed neatly in slate, it looked as solid and deeply rooted as the huge oak that flanked the front walk. It was stately, imposing, almost intimidating, a testament to generations of wealth and power.

  Dana pulled her car to a stop and chewed her lip. It was an impressive house. It was perfectly maintained, from the sparkling windows to the ruthlessly swept walk. But a five-year-old girl lived here. Where were the little footprints that should have crisscrossed the yard? Where was the snowman? There should have been a snow fort and snowballs and a discarded sled or two. If Chantal were her daughter, there would be whole families of snowmen on her lawn, and a skating rink in the backyard and—

  She forced her thoughts away from that direction—she didn’t have that many tissues. She twisted to release the catch on Morty’s carrier. He sprang out and landed on her shoulder, his claws digging into her coat.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, stroking his back. “You did great. Now for the hard part.”

  Marjory Haines answered the door herself. Her expression was distantly polite, as it had been the day before when they had met at the school. But then she saw the cat Dana carried in her arms, and her face broke into a smile. “My goodness,” she said. “Could this be…”

  “Mortimer!” Hurried footsteps approached across the gleaming hardwood floor of the entrance hall. Seconds later Chantal bumped into her grandmother’s side. “That’s Mortimer, Grandma!”

  Dana hadn’t been sure what kind of reception she would get when she had called this morning. The excuse she had given was weak—she had said the drawing Chantal had taken from her at the school yesterday was one she hadn’t meant to give away, and she wanted an opportunity to exchange it. Marjory Haines had been too well mannered to refuse, but Dana had wanted to be sure she would be invited in.

  Judging by the excitement on Chantal’s face over seeing Morty, and Marjory’s indulgent smile, it appeared as if the plan was working.

  “Behave yourself,” she whispered to the cat as they were ushered into the front parlor. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the outside. It smelled of hothouse flowers and furniture polish. Everything was perfectly neat, the oil paintings on the walls aligned, the embroidered cushions on the furniture placed just so.

  But where were the toys, the dolls and the skipping ropes? Where was the cup with the bunnies? What about stray socks or hair ribbons or dog-eared picture books?

  Had the house been this way when Sylvia was a child? Was that why she had felt the need to seek secret amusements? And would the same thing happen to Chantal if she was raised here?

  “Please sit down, Dana,” Marjory said. “I’ll get us some tea.”

  Dana chose the center of the least uncomfortable-looking couch and settled Morty on her lap.

  Chantal hesitated, looking at the doorway her grandmother had gone through, then at Dana.

  “Would you like to pet him?” Dana asked.

  Chantal nodded quickly and came to sit beside her. She smiled her father’s beautiful smile and extended her hand.

  Dana held her breath, ready to intervene if Morty decided to be cranky. He lifted his head, his ears swiveling forward as he regarded the child. His whiskers twitched briefly before he touched his nose to her fingers.

  Did he know? Dana wondered. He had taken so quickly to Remy, did he sense the connection to this child?

  “He likes me!” Chantal said, snuggling closer to Dana’s side.

  That makes it unanimous, Dana thought. “Mortimer Q. Morganbrood is a special cat,” she said. “He loves books. That’s why I put him in all of mine.”

  “I like books, too. Grandma says I’m a bookworm. That’s not a real worm. They’re icky. I found a bunch under the rocks in the garden. They were garden worms. Do you have a garden?”

  Dana drank in the sound of Chantal’s chatter. She didn’t want to stem the flow of words, but she wasn’t sure how long Marjory would be out of the room. Gently she steered the subject back to books.

  The emergency exit at the back of the kitchen was his best bet, Remy decided, bending double as he passed a window. The north side of the lodge wasn’t as accessible as the south. The cops would take longer to get into position here, and the slope of the land was steeper. There would probably be a snowdrift to break through, but once he got past that, it would only be twenty yards before he reached the cover of the bush.

  Remy pulled on his gloves and reached for the exit handle. He inched the door open and pressed his eye to the crack. Wind moaned past him, stinging his face with crystals of snow. The clouds were growing darker. Snow would be good. It would cover his tracks.

  He squinted into the wind. There was no sign of police yet. They were probably concentrating on the cabin. They wouldn’t know he was in the main lodge.

  But how had they known he was at the resort in the first place? Who had tipped them off?

  And where had Dana gone?

  The more he tried to push away his doubts, the more they pushed back. It would be best for Dana if she had turned him in. If the police didn’t believe she was coerced, she could still bargain for immunity, or a lighter sentence in exchange for her cooperation. He should be pleased. He should be relieved. He shouldn’t be feeling this chill in his chest.

  He breathed deeply a few times, charging his blood with oxygen, gauging the distance between the door and the trees. Then he ducked his chin into his collar and slipped outside.

  The wind ripped the door from his gloves and slammed it behind him. Remy plunged through the drift that curled around the corner of the lodge and headed for the line of spruce.

  There was another bang, but this time it was
n’t a door slamming. It was a shot. Something whined past his ear. Snow geysered upward to his right. He went left.

  “Stop. Police.”

  The command came from behind him. Remy’s instinct was to speed up. He was less than ten yards from the trees. He had warm clothes and good boots. He was better equipped to survive this time. If all went well, he could head straight west to the highway and then…

  And then what? Keep running? Go to Alaska or Mexico? Give up the idea of clearing his name?

  What about Chantal? If he left, he would never have a chance to prove his innocence. He would be deserting her for good. Dana, too. What if the police didn’t believe she’d been forced to help him? Could he leave her to face the consequences alone?

  Every fiber in him rebelled at the thought of surrendering. Prison was a nightmare. He couldn’t willingly walk back into it. To be locked up with no privacy, no purpose, no hope…

  But what hope did he have if he ran?

  Could Dana have been right, should he have tried an appeal, worked with the law instead of against it? Sure, it would take time, and there were no guarantees, but the prospects if he ran were even worse.

  There was no way to win. He had to choose. Could he put his trust in the legal system that had failed him before?

  Trust? He didn’t want to trust anyone or anything.

  Maybe it was time he did.

  All of this flashed through his head between one step and the next. The cover of the trees was within reach. He could disappear, start a new life.

  But what good would life be without his child and the woman he loved?

  The woman he loved.

  The realization knocked the breath from his lungs. It had come so easily, it must have been there all along. He hadn’t seen any proof, but he didn’t need to. His heart knew the truth. The doubts that had clouded his vision scattered like snow on the wind.

  Remy stopped.

  He chose.

  “Don’t shoot,” he called, raising his hands over his head.